


U & ME

by mi_entero_mundo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, M/M, anyway this is a wild ride, basically harry and louis miscommunicate constantly and get hurt because of it, but like...it takes them a minute to actually talk, dont worry everything wrks out, im not british but I pretended I was, ok thanks please let me know what u think!, sorry if it's a weird mixture of american and british english, whatever!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mi_entero_mundo/pseuds/mi_entero_mundo
Summary: When Harry wakes up he notices it’s barely light outside. The telly is still playing the Menu screen for the film Louis’ put on, but the volume is much lower than it was last night. Harry registers a heavy weight against his hip and looks down.Louis must’ve fallen asleep down here with him, as it’s his head pressed against Harry’s hip. Harry watches Louis breathe for a few minutes, the gentle swells of his breaths almost lulling him back to sleep. Absentmindedly he reaches up to run his fingers through Louis’ hair. He scratches lightly and Louis stirs a bit. Harry withdraws his fingers and Louis snuggles closer, digging his nose in almost painfully against Harry’s hipbone. Harry’s heart might burst.ORThe au that’s sort of canon in that 1d exists and they’re all in it (except for Zayn) but au in that Harry and Louis are pretty much in love but never talked about it (didn’t talk about anything the last few years, really) and now Louis has a newborn. The time for talking is now.Maybe.





	U & ME

**Author's Note:**

> hello! completely un-beta'd here and mostly unedited so please bear with me!! I started this a million years ago before freddie was born, and i rly thought louis was going to have a girl.... anyway here we go!

Harry has absolutely no idea why he feels so cross. 

He met a few fans earlier and they were quite funny, so he definitely laughed at some point. And he called his mum. She told him an adorable story about Dusty and her new cat, Dotty, and that had made him feel quite warm. He’s ready to get to know Dotty better over the break. 

If Harry really thought about it, he knows exactly what it was that ticked him off. It was just an offhand comment – a joke, most likely – that Louis had made in their last interview with the radio host. 

He and Liam were goofing off, as has become quite typical within the band, and Louis said so, so casually, “We should just move in together,” to Liam. 

Harry knows every reason why he shouldn’t let things like this affect him. He knows every single reason why it’s a complete waste of his time and energy. Honestly, there’s no reason for him to get upset. 

But still. A tiny – absolutely tiny – part of him is angry. Hurt. Part of Harry just has to ask himself why it’s okay for Louis to live with Liam, but it wasn’t okay for him to live with Harry. 

And the crazy thing is, he knows! He knows why it wasn’t okay. People got the wrong idea about it, which – fine. Harry knows how uncomfortable it made Louis. Hell, it made Harry uncomfortable sometimes too. So really, Harry has no reason to get worked up about a comment like this. 

But part of him truly can’t help it. And he knows what part of himself it is; it’s the part that he doesn’t let himself think about, except for maybe when he’s drunk and alone. 

Harry hates even thinking it, but it’s the part of him that’s still, somehow, halfway in love with Louis. 

And again – Harry knows every reason there is to know for why his feelings are a stupid waste of time. He just…he knows. He knows, but sometimes he just can’t help it. And it drives him fucking crazy, so maybe that’s why he’s so cross. He’s more cross at himself for getting hurt by Louis’ dumb comment than he actually is at Louis’ comment. It makes sense. 

And, overall, Harry is still so disappointed in himself for having these feelings. Louis completely squashed any and every hope Harry may have ever had for the two of them years ago. Harry should be over it. 

Except Harry’s had a hard time with letting go completely. He’s tried every trick in the book. He’s fucked at least 15 people that look and act absolutely nothing like Louis. He became friends with a crowd Louis once made fun of in an attempt to do – well, to do something. Harry doesn’t know what he was trying to accomplish by getting in with Grimmy’s gang, but hey, at least he got a really lovely group of friends out of it. 

Harry is just really, really tired. He’s tired of jetting around the world, pretending he doesn’t want Louis to smile at him, and he’s especially tired of Larry Stylinson still being talked about as if it were ever a legitimate fucking thing. 

He’s just so tired. So, so exhausted, and he’s more than ready for this 18 month break. Maybe this will be what he needs to move on completely. Maybe Harry really should move into the woods like he and his sister joked about over the holiday.

*

On January 1st, 2016, Harry Styles moves into the woods. He takes two bags of luggage, 6 bags of groceries, two dozen books, his laptop, a few seasons of various TV shows, and his phone. He rents a cabin that specifically does not have wifi, and is relatively far away from potential neighbors. He tells no one except his mum, dad, and sister he’s doing this. 

It was only supposed to last ten days, at most. A nice little holiday, in a way. He didn’t expect to survive on 6 bags of groceries for the entire 18 month break, that’s for sure. 

But when he ran out of groceries, he hired someone to bring him some more. And now, according to Harry’s phone, it’s suddenly January 31st, and his 22nd birthday is tomorrow. He knows he could easily turn his data on and call his friends. He could call Niall. He misses Niall a lot. And Liam’s sweet hugs, if he’s honest. And Nick’s gentle humor.

But he doesn’t. He turns his data on, calls his mum to check in with her, and suffers through a very lovely ‘Happy Birthday To You’ sung by his mum and stepdad. He shoots his dad a text to let him know he’s surviving, and then sends an emoji of a birthday cake and a pouting emoji to his sister. He ignores any other notifications he has and turns his data off once again. 

His 22nd birthday passes quietly. He spends the day walking around outside the cabin. He doesn’t venture too far, because he’s still worried about getting lost, but he enjoys crunching through the fresh snow and watching the deer graze at what vegetation is left. They look back at him for a bit, and decide he isn’t a threat, which makes Harry the happiest he’s been in a very long time.

To spoil himself, he opens up a bottle of wine and drinks it all while watching the second season of some popular sitcom that came out years ago. He laughs and cries and feels an intense sense of relief, for whatever reason. And when he falls asleep, he thinks about blue eyes and a scruffy chin for less than half a second before he passes out, which – for Harry – is a win. 

When he wakes up it’s to someone banging on his door. He’s out of his bed in less than two seconds, hiding in his closet in less than five. Who the fuck is out here? How did they find him? For a split second Harry thinks it’s a fan that caught wind of his location. Then he shakes himself back to reality and realizes it’s probably something – someone – much worse. Harry sends a quick prayer up to whatever God may be up there to give him at least a fighting chance against his probable murderer. 

“Harry, open the fucking door! It’s freezing out here.” 

It’s Gemma and Harry is hiding in a closet for no reason. 

He rushes to throw on a sweater – it’s quite chilly now that he’s not under his covers anymore – and runs to the door. Part of him is afraid she’s coming with bad news. He thinks of his mum, who he just talked to a few days ago, and tries to tamp down his worry while unlocking the deadbolts. 

A gust of chilly air bursts into his sanctuary along with his older sister. “Gem,” he said, happy to see her despite being under what could be terrible circumstances. He pulls her into a hug, wincing as she presses her cool cheek against his neck. 

“Hey Haz. Nice little set up you have here.” 

Harry ushers her in, takes her coat to hang on a hook, and puts on the kettle. “Are you hungry?” 

She makes an unsure gesture. “Maybe I’ll have something in a bit. I would like a cup of tea though, if it’s not too much.” 

Harry smiles. “What if it were too much?” 

She glares. “Well then I’d be forced to leave, I suppose. And to think, I brought you a birthday gift and everything…”

Harry lights up. “A gift? Where?” He asked, excitement flooding his tone. 

Gemma laughs. “God, you haven’t changed. Still so excited for gifts even though you can afford anything you could ever want.” 

Harry deflates. He knew it was a little silly to get excited about receiving gifts when he could technically buy the world. “I just like knowing someone…thought about me? I guess. I like seeing what they think I’ll like,” he tries to explain. “No, that’s not right. I like….it’s like when someone says, ‘I saw this and I thought of you.’ I like hearing people’s reasons for thinking of me when they see things. I don’t make sense. Sorry,” Harry said, blushing a bit, even though it’s his sister and he hasn’t been embarrassed around her since he was 15. “This is the most interaction I’ve had with another human in like…a whole month.” 

Gemma just smiles fondly. “It’s okay, goober. You don’t need to apologize. And I understand what you’re saying about gifts,” She said, leaning back into the couch as the kettle started to whistle. Harry walked back to the stove as he heard her continue, “You just like it when people think about you ‘cuz you’re a bit self obsessed, yeah?” 

Harry squawks and almost splashes boiling water on himself. “No, that’s not what I meant!” 

Gemma laughs in a way that brings a lump to his throat because it reminds him of their mum. “I know, I know, I’m only joking. I do know what you mean though. I think you’ll like what I brought you,” She says as she starts messing around with a brown paper grocery bag that Harry hadn’t noticed before now. 

Harry brings over the two cups of tea and puts them on the table in front of the couch where the two of them sit. He watches gleefully as Gemma pulls out a very poorly wrapped gift. She hands it to him and says, “Don’t get your hopes up with this. It literally only cost me 10 quid but, you know, I saw them and I thought of you…” 

Harry smiles at her before tearing into the wrapped paper. He tears up at what’s inside. 

A pair of lumpy slippers with fuzz coloured to look like Orcas. The bottoms are white with the special traction bumps on them, and the tops are black, with white spattered around the top for the whales’ eyes and such.

They’re just standard slippers, but Harry’s heart is warm.

He grins at his sister and slips them on over his wool socks. “Thanks, Gem. These are awesome.” 

She shoves him gently. “I know, right. I thought you could name one of them Tili after the orca from that documentary that you like.”

“The film is called Blackfish,” He interjects. “And I don’t know if I want to name my slippers after an orca that’s killed people before. Not that it was the orca’s fault – because I really don’t think it was – but just for the sake of…sensitivity in regard to the people who lost their lives.” 

Gemma snorts. “You’re dramatic sometimes, aren’t you?” She asks rhetorically before continuing. “Well, alright then. What would you name them?” 

Harry looks at his feet. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to think about it for a bit.” 

Gemma nods. “A sensible decision, I think. More people should probably think about names more critically, I guess, so it’s good you’re taking some time,” She says with bite. Harry startles at her tone. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

She sighs and looks at him for just a minute. “Do you want me to sugar-coat what I’m about to say?” 

Harry knew something bad happened.

“What’s wrong? Is mum okay?” He asks frantically. 

She looks perplexed. “I mean, I think so, I just talked to her a few hours ago…” 

Harry stares at her. “So…you’re not about to tell me someone is hurt…or sick….or dead?” 

Gemma’s eyes widen. “No! Quite the opposite actually.”

Harry’s brow furrows. “What?” 

She sighs. “Louis’ daughter was born yesterday.” 

Yesterday. Louis had a daughter? A newborn baby girl? 

Born on Harry’s birthday?

What kind of sick fucking joke. “Are you fucking with me right now, Gems? Because it’s not funny.” 

Gemma grabs his wrist and squeezes. “I’m not joking.” 

Harry shudders out a breath and feels a swelling in his chest. He suddenly feels like he’s going to burst. “What…how…” 

Gemma bites her lip and looks him in the eye. She quickly grabs his cheeks in her hands and forces him to maintain their eye contact. “Listen, Haz, I need you to calm down. Please breathe, just look at me. I’m going to countdown from 20, okay? I want you to start counting down with me when you can.” 

Harry feels his throat close a bit, and considers miming for his inhaler but he doesn’t think he’ll need it. As far as panic attacks go, Harry can tell this isn’t his worst. He just needs to focus on whatever number is coming out of Gemma’s mouth. 

“…17…16…15…doing okay, Haz? Yes you are, you’re doing really well, just breathe. 14…13…” 

Harry clears his throat and starts counting down with her as soon as she gets to 8. They slowly count down to 1, and Harry feels loads better. This isn’t what he typically does to deal with panic attacks, but maybe he should consider it for the future. His heart rate is still elevated but he is breathing normally again. 

He feels Gemma pinch his cheek. “You okay there, hon? I should’ve sugar-coated it, I think.” 

Harry chuckles a bit, and remembers his tea sitting on the table. He quickly grabs it and chugs about half of it, despite it still being a bit too warm. “Sorry…that was just a bit of a shock, I guess.” 

Gemma pinches his cheek again. “You don’t need to apologize for that, kid. It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s only been a day and it still feels a bit crazy to me, too.” 

Harry sighs. “So…a daughter…born on my birthday. Well, her birthday too, now, I guess.” 

Gemma nods. “Yeah. And before you ask, the only thing that was released to the public was when she gave birth. No one knows the sex or the name of the baby.” 

Harry winces. He just knows the fans are having a field day with that information, minimal though it is. Maybe Harry will stay in the woods for a while longer still. 

Something pops into his mind before he can contemplate a life among the deer. “Oh, you said something about her name. What did they decide on?” 

Harry is pretty sure Louis would name his daughter after his mum. He truly is one of the biggest mummy’s boys on planet earth, and Johannah is a wonderful woman, so it makes sense.

Gemma sighs. “Don’t get cross. And don’t freak out again, okay?” 

Harry is worried, now. “What is it, Gem? Is it stupid?” 

Gemma laughs drily. “I mean…it’s not a name I would choose for someone in this century but…I know it means a lot to…some people…” 

Harry shakes his head impatiently. “Okay, Gem, enough. What is her name?” 

Gemma frowns slightly before she says, “Darcy.” 

Harry feels his stomach fall straight into the floor. And before he can even begin to fathom the wretched disappointment and utter confusion he feels, he quietly asks his sister to help him pack his bags. 

He’s going home. 

*

As far as homecomings go, his is relatively quiet. He gets back to his flat in the middle of the night, so there are no paps or errant fans around to alert the world of his return. He’s pretty grateful to whatever entity allowed him that privilege. He wants privacy for a while still. 

His flat is chilly – almost as cold as his cabin in the woods. He rushes to the thermostat and turns it up to 20. He considers it for a moment and then pushes it up to 28. One of many luxuries he can afford. 

He puts what remains of his cabin groceries away and puts his bags in his room. He changes into a pair of fleece trackies with thick, fuzzy socks to match. He contemplates whether or not he should put on a shirt, and ultimately decides it’s better to have one and get too warm than not have one and be too cold. It’s plain white cotton, but with long sleeves that extend slightly past his wrists. He goes to the washroom, washes his face, brushes his teeth, and stares at himself for a minute. There were mirrors in the cabin, but Harry really didn’t concern himself with his appearance while he was there. Now, though, he can see how rough it got. 

Without the facial scrubs he likes, his complexion had taken a bit of a hit – he had about six new zits he could see on the surface. (This annoyed Harry. He genuinely thought acne would disappear as soon as he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Life is full of surprises, apparently). Despite feeling well rested, he had pretty dark bags under his eyes. Though, that was likely just because of his long commute from cabin to flat. He was a bit pale too, so maybe that made the bags look worse. He can’t remember looking this sallow since before auditioning for the X Factor. He’s been lucky enough to jet somewhere warm and sunny during the cold winter months, but this year he chose not to do that. 

Harry has come a long way in terms of self-confidence and insecurities, but he, like anyone else on the planet, has his bad days. The lateness of the hour probably isn’t helping, either. He just feels…ugly. And objectively he knows he isn’t – he knows that ugliness is a social construct and everyone is beautiful – but sometimes he just can’t help but dislike his reflection. 

He quickly shuts off the light, not wanting to nitpick his appearance any longer, and walks back into the kitchen. He sets up the kettle, even though he knows he probably won’t drink the cup of tea he plans to pour for himself, and turns his phone on. He jogs to his room to grab his charger, just in case his phone battery didn’t hold its charge over the last few days, and plugs it in at the outlet by his kitchen island. He watches as his phone comes to life. He turns his cellular data on and waits for the messages to pour in. 

569 text messages, 197 missed calls, 60 voicemails, and 1048 emails. Harry doesn’t even know where to begin. 

As he sifts through his texts, he tries to scroll back up his conversations to get to the last message he sent so he can follow along chronologically. He scrolls through his conversation with Niall first. There’s a few general “hello’s” a few “wtf mate reply to me” a couple of “fuck you are you pulling a zayn and leaving the band,” and a few, “you should probably call Louis back bro…” 

Harry scoffs. He owes Louis nothing. What an odd message from Niall, though.

He checks his conversation with Nick next. Nick seems a bit more patient with his lack of replies, and understands when he sees one that says, “alright popstar, gem just told me ur in the woods. I’ll try not to make fun of u about it on the radio….lulz love u <333,” which makes Harry smile. 

He scrolls through his conversation with Jonny next, and it’s mostly a few random “hello’s,” “have you changed your number again and forgot to tell me?” as well as one that says, “I’ll be home in april just to beat u up for not telling me ur new number,” Harry’s heart yearns a bit for his best friend, but he doesn’t reply just yet. 

Next is his conversation with Liam. It’s mostly just a few drunk texts that make him laugh, until they start to focus on Louis. In fact, the last 25 messages are about Louis. Mostly just “u need to call him, haz,” and “seriously u realy need to talk to him he’s bein a bit strange right now, not taking my calls,” which, unfortunately, have Harry a bit worried. 

A bit too eagerly he enters into his conversation with Louis next. He’s a bit disappointed to see only three texts. The first one says, “havin a NYE party really last minute come if u want” Harry vaguely remembers seeing that the day before he left, but he never replied. “Happy birthday! looks like u are getting a new birthday buddy,” and the last one says, “please call me.” He can see that the last two messages were sent on the same day. 

Harry doesn’t feel emotionally ready for the confrontation with Louis he knows is inevitable. It’s been brewing for years, now; there’s no way it won’t be explosive. He decides to call Nick. 

He regrets it as soon as he hears Nick’s sleepy voice pick up. “’Lo?” 

“Fuck,” Harry states. “I forgot you’d be asleep.” 

Nick grumbles for a second. “Not surprising, Harold. This is hardly my first late night call from you.” 

Harry feels guilty. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon or something.” 

Nick tsks. “Now, now, popstar, you have me on the line already. Might as well make it interesting.” 

Harry laughs. “I think that sounded creepier than you meant for it to.” 

Nick sighs. “I don’t even remember what I said, to be honest. I think I’m still asleep. Possibly dreaming.” 

Harry smiles. “Aw. Talking to me makes you feel like you’re dreaming? How sweet of you, Nicholas.” 

“Hm. It’s more like a nightmare, now that I’m thinking about it.” 

Harry laughs. “Thanks, mate,” he says and then adds, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Well, course you have. I’m amazing,” Nick says and immediately yawns. Harry still feels guilty, but he figures that if Grimmy wanted to sleep he’d have hung up on him. “Missed you too, though,” Nick adds. “How was your cabin?” 

Harry sighs. “It was great. I was very alone which was pleasant, and the deer loved me so I’m thinking about moving back there on a more permanent basis,” Harry jokes. 

Nick laughs. “Of course the deer loved you, Bambi. They probably want to take care of you just like everyone else that meets you.” 

“Heeeey,” Harry drawls, partially because it’s the reaction he knows Nick wants from him. “I’m a very capable lumberjack, now.” 

Nick hums. “Did you wear a plaid shirt and everything?” 

Harry grins. “Yep.” 

Nick snorts. “Okay, Harold, I know you didn’t just call to flirt with me in the middle of the night. What’s going on?” 

Harry exhales sharply. “Well…” 

“Is this about your bandmate having a baby on your birthday?” 

Nick knows Harry, and he definitely knows Harry’s conflicted feelings about Louis, so for him to pick up on the nature of Harry’s late night call so quickly isn’t that surprising. “I mean…yeah.” 

Nick sighs. “What are you thinking right now, Hazza? I’d come over but it’s warm in my bed and I have to work in a few hours.” 

Harry still feels guilty about that. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” he says again. “I’m not really thinking anything about she and I sharing a birthday, to be honest,” he admits. “That’s not really the part I have an issue with.” 

“Oh it’s a girl, is it?” Nick asks. “They haven’t released any information to us peasants yet.” 

“Yeah, they had a girl,” Harry confirms, “But you can’t say anything about it, okay?” 

“Yeah, lad, I know how it goes. I’ll try not to spill it on the breakfast show. Hopefully I’ll think this conversation was just a figment of my imagination tomorrow morning and won’t even remember what we talked about.” 

Harry snorts. “If only you could be so lucky.” 

“Innit,” Nick says. “Hold on, you said you have an issue with something?” 

Harry gulps around the lump forming in his throat. “Yeah…I guess with the name they chose for her.” 

Nick asks, “Well, what did they name her?” 

“Darcy,” Harry says, almost whispering.

Nick pauses for about 5 seconds. “Hang on,” Nick says. “You mean to tell me Louis named his child Darcy? Like the name you always wanted to use for your future daughter?” 

Harry feels a lump growing in his throat. “…Yeah,” he says quietly. 

Nick laughs bitterly. “You have to be fucking kidding. What a fucking prick.” 

Harry sighs, grateful that he has at least one person on his side. “I…agree.” 

“Well of course you agree mate, I’m always right. But seriously, Haz…this is like…some soap opera shit. Some telenovela shit. Some Emerson shit.”  
Harry chuckles. “I get it, mate, it’s dramatic. I know.” 

“Yeah, it’s dramatic, but it’s also like, just bloody rude,” Nick says. “Have you spoken to him?” 

Harry shakes his head before he realizes Nick can’t see him. “No, I haven’t. You’re the first person I called, actually.” 

Nick says, “Awwwww,” in a really gooey voice. “That’s so sweet, Hazza. Nice to know where your priorities lie.” 

Harry smiles. “’Course. You’re one of my best mates, you know.” 

“And you’re one of mine, too, but these soppy feelings are too much for me at this late hour,” Nick claims. “When do you think you’re going to talk to Louis?” 

Harry bites his lip. “I’m not sure. I was so cross like, 12 hours ago or something, but now I’m just tired. I’m just like…really tired of feeling so angry all the time,” Harry admits. “Sometimes I just feel like never talking to him ever again, and like, I know that’s really mean – ”

“ – Yes, very uncharacteristic of you, Harold – ”

“ – But I can’t help it. He just knows exactly what to do and say every single time to make me sad, angry…hurt….I don’t know. And he’s usually not even trying! But with this…I can’t help but feel like sometimes he does these things on purpose,” Harry discloses. “I just can’t figure out why. Why does he do this?” 

Nick exhales loudly. “I couldn’t tell you why, Haz. What exactly is he doing to make you so cross? Other than the kid thing.” 

“Well,” Harry begins, “I don’t know. I guess, a few months ago he told an interviewer that he and Liam were going to move in together soon. Which is like, cool, you know, living with Liam would be fun, but like…what was so wrong with living with me? And then there was that time when an interviewer asked us all if we’d do anything differently and he like, blatantly looked at me and said, ‘yeah, reckon I’d do pretty much everything from the first year differently’ and then made some kind of half-arsed comment about his old wardrobe…and like…I don’t know…” 

Harry realizes he’s rambling and getting worked up, so he stops. 

Nick is quiet for a few moments. “That’s like, genuinely messed up, mate. I’m sorry he’s so thick. Does he really not know he’s hurting you like this?” 

Harry shudders. “I hope not. If he knows and is doing it anyway…I don’t think Louis’ that twisted but,” Harry adds, “who knows.” Because Harry doesn’t really know Louis anymore. 

Nick ‘Mmhmm’s’ and Harry feels guilty again about waking him up. “Listen, mate, I’ll call you tomorrow. Please go back to sleep.” 

Nick sighs. “Okay, but hear what I say to you right now: you deserve happiness, Hazza. You deserve to never feel this shitty again, and you should do whatever it takes to achieve that – no matter what. If you have to leave the band, then do it. If you don’t want to talk to Louis ever again, don’t. And if you really want to live in the woods for the rest of your life, then so be it. I need to work on my wood-chopping skills anyway, so I reckon I could visit a time or two.”

Harry is about 1 second away from ugly crying. “Thanks, Nick. I love you.” 

Nick chuckles. “I love you too, you crazy bastard. Now I’m going back to sleep, but I’ll come by tomorrow evening okay? I’ll bring sushi and wine. We’ll have a proper birthday dinner for you.” 

Harry smiles despite his runny eyes and nose. “Okay, mate. Thanks a lot. Seriously.”

“Anytime, love. Goodnight.” 

And then the flat is silent again. 

Harry shudders out a small sob and reaches for a tissue. He blows his nose and dabs under his eyes. He breathes in and out for a few moments.

Should he call Louis tonight? Tomorrow morning? Ever? Is he even composed enough to reach out to Louis right now? 

Harry decides he doesn’t care if he’s composed or not. He wants some answers. 

The phone rings until it goes to voicemail, which surprises Harry. 

He doesn’t bother calling back because he knows Louis will call as soon as he is able. That’s one good thing about Louis. He’s very reliable with getting back to people. 

Harry goes upstairs to his room and takes his half-charged phone with him. He slides under his covers, feeling toasty warm in a way he honestly hasn’t since he left for the woods. He closes his eyes for just a moment and what feels like 5 seconds later is rudely awoken by his shrill ringtone. He’s really thinking about going back to the woods. 

“’Lo?” He asks gruffly. 

“Harry,” Louis states. And that’s it. 

Harry pulls his phone away from his face to make sure the call wasn’t dropped. It wasn’t, so he says, “Louis.” 

There’s a few more seconds of silence. Harry hears a few faint sniffling noises but it can’t be…it would be impossible – 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis says, obviously upset. Harry hears the little hiccups Louis lets out as he exhales. 

“Lou, are you – are you crying?” Harry asks worriedly, wide awake. 

“Harry,” Louis states again and shudders out a breath. Harry hears him cough roughly into what’s probably his elbow. “I’m sorry.” 

Harry sighs. In all honesty, he’s a little thrown off by Louis’ emotional state. All of his expectations of explosive arguments are thrown out the window. “What are you sorry about, Louis?” He asks wearily. 

Louis sniffles a little bit. “Everything, I reckon.” 

And the thing is, is that he says it so pathetically. Louis sounds so sad, so subdued, that literally all the anger Harry felt toward Louis just completely drained from his body. And that’s the problem, isn’t it. Harry wants to tell Louis how upset and hurt he is and has been for years, but he can never hold onto it long enough to say it to his face. Or, in this case, over the phone. 

“Well, I reckon you probably don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Harry says, despite feeling the exact opposite. He can’t even regret saying it because…well. Because it’s Louis. Harry is a bit of an idiot when it comes to Louis. 

Louis is silent for a while but it seems as if he stopped crying. Harry rubs his free hand over his tired eyes and reaches up to pull his hair out the haphazard bun he’d previously had it in. He massages his sore roots and tries to comb out some of the knots with his fingers. 

It’s still silent, and Harry doesn’t really understand why Liam was so insistent he call Louis; obviously Louis doesn’t have much to say to Harry. 

And naturally that’s the moment Louis decides to speak. 

“Listen…Harry. I know this looks bad, the thing with the name for my…my daughter, but…I don’t even know how to explain what happened. And I can’t…I can’t say sorry enough, because I know that name was special to you. Darcy…but…if you could just see her, Harry – ”

“Alright,” Harry interrupts. 

“Wh – wait, what?”

Harry clears his throat. “Alright, I’ll come see her. You’re in L.A., right?” 

Louis is silent for five seconds. “Yeah, yeah mate, I’m in L.A. Are you serious?” 

Harry nods again before he audibly replies, “Yes, I am. I have some things to do here still, I just came home – ”

“Home? Where have you been, by the way? Niall and Liam mentioned you haven’t been replying to their messages.” 

Harry grimaces. He does feel kind of bad about shutting them out. 

“I was in the woods.” 

“You were what? In the woods?” Louis clarifies. He sounds confused. “Were you lost?”

Harry stifles a laugh. “No, I mean. Not really. I can explain when I see you. It’s – what is today, Monday?” At this point in the morning it is very much Tuesday. “Is it okay for me to come on Saturday?” 

Louis hums. “That should work just fine. I’ll pay you back for the ticket - ”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m…I’m happy to come see you and meet your daughter.” 

Louis is silent for a moment. “Yeah?” He asked quietly. He sounds shockingly unsure of himself and Harry is caught off guard. 

“Well, yeah. It’s been a long time since we’ve properly…hung out,” because you’ve been a prick for the last couple of years and it hurts to even look at you most of the time, Harry doesn’t say. 

Louis makes an affirmative noise. “Too long,” he agrees, to Harry’s surprise. 

Harry nods. He really needs to get to sleep soon. 

“Yeah. Listen, I’m in bed about to fall asleep, how about I text you in a couple days about flight details?” Harry says, closing his eyes. 

“Sounds good, mate. And, if you want, you are…more than welcome to stay with me – in my home.” 

Harry’s eyes pop open. “Home? You have a home in L.A.?” 

Louis chuckles. “I know, right? Very out of character for me.” 

Harry laughs unstably. “You could say that. Didn’t you once say you would rather chew your own arms off than live in L.A.?” 

Harry clearly remembers this moment. It was too soon after Harry bought his own home in L.A. to be a coincidence. 

Louis sighs. “I’ve said a lot of things, Harold – Harry. But I’ll let you get to sleep, mate, okay? Text me with the details.”

Harry closes his eyes again. “Yeah, alright. Talk to you later.” 

“Yeah. Oh, and – it was nice talking to you. Thank you…for calling me.” 

Harry furrows his brows. “Yeah, Lou, of course.” 

Harry can hear the smile in Louis’s voice when he offers a quiet, “Good night, Harry,” and the call disconnects.

Harry pulls his phone away and stares at it for a moment, wondering if any of that was really real. He puts it down on the bedside table and promptly passes out. 

*

Harry wakes up to a loud banging on his door. He really needs to stop waking up like this. 

He jumps out of bed and walks quickly to the door. He peers through the peephole and sees Nick. He unlocks the deadbolts and lets Nick in, grabbing the bags from his hands so he can take off his scarf and coat. 

“Well, you certainly know how to make a guy feel welcome. Sleeping through all his bloody texts and calls, not answering the door for fifteen minutes. Speaking of which, your neighbor might call the cops on me – only time will tell.” 

Harry walks Nick’s grocery bags into the kitchen, feeling guilty and still mostly asleep. He sets the bags down and starts unpacking whatever Nick brought. A few bottles of wine and what appear to be three takeaway containers of sushi, as promised. 

Harry rubs his eyes and sighs heavily. 

“I realize I may not have gotten what you wanted but listen, you were the one that didn’t answer my texts.” 

Harry shakes his head and blinks his eyes a few times. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just…I just woke up.” 

Nick snorts. “Incredible. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You musnt’ve gotten to bed until late – or early, technically.”

Harry nods in agreement. “Yeah, it was late.” 

Nick sighs. “Alright, mate. Go take a shower, take your time. Do what you need to do. You’re literally a zombie right now and I refuse to speak to you until you’re fully awake.” 

Harry laughs weakly. “Yeah, a shower sounds amazing. I’ll be down in fifteen,” he says as he turns to walk back toward the washroom. 

“Make it thirty,” Nick calls. “You kind of stink, love.” 

Harry scoffs. “I smell like roses, Nicholas! Don’t drink all the wine while I’m gone!” 

He hears Nick chuckle. “Absolutely no promises.” 

*

Harry feels incredible after his shower in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. He feels clean and alert, and his hair looks healthier than it has since before his jaunt in the woods. 

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has finally emerged. I’m feeling hashtag blessed.” 

Harry grins as he accepts the glass of wine Nick hands him as he approaches the couch. “Thanks, pal. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts or calls. I forgot to set an alarm.” 

“Clearly,” Nick snorts. “But it’s alright, I suppose. You must’ve needed your rest.” 

Harry nods. “Yeah, I was exhausted. I loved being out in the woods like, so much, but it really was very, very cold. It was hard to get a good nights rest.” 

Nick laughs. “Sounds like the exact opposite of your flat. It’s a bloody fucking sauna in here, honestly.” 

Harry smiles. “I vaguely remember turning up the thermostat last night.” 

“Yeah, well we’re about five minutes away from having to put ice cubes in our wine to keep it chilled, so bottoms up.” 

Harry chugs his glass and immediately feels light headed. “That was dumb.”

Nick follows in Harry’s footsteps and chugs his own glass of wine. “Nothing I tell you to do is dumb. Nothing I do is dumb.”

Harry nods as he watches Nick refill their glasses. “If you say so, Nicholas.” 

And the two of them get properly tipsy. It does feel good to be home, Harry thinks. 

*

The next morning Harry buys a plane ticket to L.A. 

Nick had a variety of opinions about Harry’s upcoming trip, none of them positive. Frankly, Harry has a lot of negative opinions about his upcoming trip, but he knows he has to go. At the very least this can be the final nail in the coffin of Harry and Louis’ friendship. 

Or, Harry’s too afraid to hope, it may be just what they need to get things back on track. But Harry’s not going to delude himself. The two of them have had plenty of time to talk things out, and if it were going to happen it probably would have already. At this point Harry is only going so he can meet Louis’ daughter and figure out why he named her Darcy. And then…Harry will probably have to cut ties with Louis. At least for a while. Possibly a long while – maybe forever. Maybe Harry’s being dramatic. Definitely, he is. But he can’t help it. 

All Harry knows is they can’t continue at the rate they’re going. They’re really not even friends. If they didn’t work together, Harry’s sure Louis would have halted all contact with him as soon as he moved out of their flat. 

Regardless, Harry sends a screenshot of his flight info to Louis and sends a text immediately after that says, “Looking forward to seeing you.” He has to physically stop himself from adding “xx” to the end. 

Louis replies with a slew of smiling and thumbs up emojis. 

And then Harry receives a picture. 

He’s frozen. Before him is a picture of a baby he assumes is Darcy, and holy shit. She really does look like a Darcy. She has dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and the sweetest little pout. Harry’s chest unclenches and all the bitterness he’s held onto completely dissipates. For a baby only a few days old, Darcy is already one of the cutest he’s ever seen. 

Harry stares at the picture for a moment longer before he replies.

“Can’t wait to meet her xx.”

*

Harry goes home to visit his mum and stepdad before he leaves for L.A. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone, and he’s already gone without seeing them for over a month. 

His mum greets him with a minute long hug and a kiss on each cheek, and his stepdad claps him on the shoulder before pulling him in and giving him the same treatment his mum did. They really are two peas in a pod. Their easy affection lights Harry up from the inside; coming home is always so, so nice. 

Harry only brought a small backpack with him full of trackies and sweaters, as he has no plans to do anything other than hang out at home with his family and the cats for the next couple of days. He takes his stuff upstairs to his childhood bedroom and feels a familiar wave of nostalgia wash over him. It’s the same feeling he gets every time he visits home. He glances at the posters on his wall and the bedsheets he knows his mum refreshes at least once a month. Just in case he pops home for a surprise visit, she once explained to him. He had gotten a little teary and vowed to visit her more often. Easier said than done when one has to jet around the world most months of the year for work. 

But now…now he doesn’t have to do that. At least not for 18 months. Or 17 months, at this point. When he gets back from L.A. Harry will spend at least two weeks straight here, and he will do so happily. Maybe more than two weeks. He’ll probably need the comfort of home and having his mum around just in case things with Louis do end sour. 

After Harry has properly settled in, his mum starts making dinner. 

“A Sunday roast for you, love. I know it’s been a while since you’ve had one.” 

Harry laughed. “Mum, it’s Wednesday.” 

His mum concedes, “Alright, a Wednesday roast, then. Would you like to prepare the salad?” 

Harry nods. “I would like nothing more.”

His mum smiles. 

The two of them work together quietly, though they do bounce short stories back and forth about what the last month brought each of them. Harry learns more about their rambunctious new cat, and his mum learns about how Harry was basically adopted into a family of deer. 

During their silent moments, Harry reflects a bit on the past few years. Barring Louis’ presence in his life, Harry has been…properly happy. He’s made a lot of cool, new friends, performed in front of probably millions of people, and been able to see so much of the world. He’s very lucky, and he knows it. He is a bit surprised to realize that so much of his life in One Direction has been happy in spite of his issues with Louis. The fresh perspective is good for Harry, because it gives him the chance to realize that even if things with Louis don’t get sorted out anytime soon, he can still be happy. The thought comforts him as the prospect of finally hashing things out threatens to overwhelm him with anxiety. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts when his mum rubs her hand up and down his back. “You okay, love? You look a bit peaky.” 

Harry nods and clears his throat. “Yeah. Just…thinking about this weekend.” 

His mum hums. “And what do you have planned for the weekend that’s got you thinking so hard?” 

Harry sighs and walks toward the stovetop. He fills the kettle with water, sticks it on the right front hob, and pulls out a couple of mugs. “I’m going to L.A. to visit Louis and meet his daughter.” 

His mum is silent for long enough that Harry feels the need to turn around and look her in the eyes. 

“Oh, sweetheart. No wonder you’re thinking about that,” his mum says gently. She walks up to him and wraps him in a tight hug.

Harry’s mum doesn’t exactly know the extent of his feelings for Louis, but she’s Harry’s mum so she definitely knows somehow. Harry doesn’t want a pity party so he squeezes her back quickly and disentangles himself. He grabs a couple teabags – chamomile and lemon ginger – and dunks them in the mugs, hoping the kettle will start whistling this very second. 

While his back is still turned he quietly says, “I’m worried that I’m going to have to properly end my friendship with Louis.” 

His mum sighs and he listens to her take a seat at the dining table. Harry turns around and leans back against the counter, crosses his arms, and wearily rubs a hand across his mouth and jaw. 

“Well, my darling, if that’s what you need to do then…do it. You know what’s best for you.” 

Harry nods and looks toward the floor. “I just…don’t know how to talk to him anymore. It’s been so long since we had a proper conversation.” Harry looks out the window above the sink and stares at the sunset. “He called me the other night and it was the first time we’ve really spoken in years.”

“And how did it go?”

Harry continues to stare at the sunset. “It was nice…but also not nice in a way.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Harry considers how to phrase it and replies, “I mean, it was definitely polite. A little weirdly polite, but it didn’t feel honest, I guess. Or authentic is a better word. It didn’t really feel like I was talking to Louis. He was like a stranger,” Harry says morosely. 

He sees his mum nod out of the corner of his eye. He looks toward her again and notices she’s watching him carefully. 

“Well…sweetheart, perhaps you are. You say you two ’ve not spoken in years, maybe you are strangers to each other now.” 

Harry breathes in deeply and feels his nostrils flare, frustrated because his mum only speaks the truth. “Yeah – probably. Shit, this sucks.” 

His mum sighs and rests her chin on her palm, tilting her head a bit as she thinks about what to say next. “I think, at this point, all you can really do is be honest with him. About everything.” 

Harry groans. “Everything?” He asks hesitantly. 

His mum nods sympathetically. “Everything. And then at that point you can…let the chips fall where they may. Or take the chips into your own hands. Whatever the situation calls for.” 

Harry nods. “You’re right mum. You always are.” 

His mum laughs lightly. “Very true, darling. Never forget it!”

“You always give the best advice from the dining table,” Harry observes. “Remember in Year 6 when you sat me down at this very table and told me to buck up and tell my teacher I didn’t understand her lessons? That got me the tutor I needed to pass her class,” Harry recalls. “Best advice giver ever.” 

His mum grins sweetly and walks over to pinch his cheeks and plant a sloppy kiss on his forehead. 

Harry can only hope she’s right about this situation as well. 

*

The first thing Harry notices as he walks off the plane is that L.A. is a bit cooler than he expected. Not cold, by any means, but not as warm and dry as he thought it would be. He also notices a pap about a hundred feet away, already snapping photos of him. He feels a surge of anger zip down his spine and immediately attempts to brush it off. He had hoped this trip could somehow, miraculously, be kept secret but alas. Life is full of disappointments.

He had ordered a car to take him to Louis’ house, as driving one of his own ostentatious vehicles was clearly not an option. Harry lifts his hand slightly when he spots the driver holding a sign that says “H. Edward S.” Not very subtle, but hopefully passerby don’t think twice about it. He really does not want to be mobbed tonight. 

The driver lifts Harry’s bags into his trunk, despite Harry’s protests and attempts to help. Harry gets into the backseat once he’s done and pulls out his phone to let Louis know he’s on his way. His stomach is full of tense butterflies, anxious about what will happen when he sees Louis. Louis replies with a thumbs up emoji. 

The drive won’t take long, according to the driver. Probably just under half an hour. Harry takes that time to breathe deeply and go through what he wants to say to Louis. He doesn’t anticipate a scenario in which he’d bombard him with his thoughts and feelings right away, but he also doesn’t want to dawdle. 

Louis’ home is impressive. It’s in a gated neighborhood with about 25 other homes, Harry guesses. It’s big – definitely too big for just Louis and his newborn – but undoubtedly beautiful. Harry liked the large front windows the best. The yard was nice too; a decent size, with a modest garden. Harry assumes Louis has that professionally tended to, as he had killed the only plant he and Harry had ever owned in their flat. 

But…

Maybe Louis’ become more responsible. Like Harry’s mum said, they’re practically strangers now. A new rush of nervousness infiltrates Harry’s system as he helps the driver unload his bags. Harry shakes the man’s hand once he’s done, and the driver is off. Harry now stands alone on the sidewalk in front of Louis’ L.A. home with his two bags in hand. He slowly walks toward the door, regretting his decision to do this. What was he thinking? He’s not brave enough to confront Louis about anything, let alone even have a bloody conversation beyond a simple exchange of pleasantries – 

Louis’ front door swinging open wildly pulls Harry from his worries. 

And there’s Louis. It’s been less than two months since Harry has seen him, but there are significant changes in his appearance that Harry suddenly feels the need to obsessively catalogue. He cut his hair, for one; it’s now short around his ears and neck, though still a decent length on top. It sort of looks like a haircut Liam might get. His face had somehow thinned out a little more and Harry has the urge to start cooking immediately. He squashes that urge and continues his perusal. Louis’ hands have a couple new tattoos on them and his feet are predictably covered in unreasonably brightly patterned socks. Harry almost smiles, because if there’s one thing he’s sure about in regards to Louis’ sock preferences, it’s that he hates wearing socks with shoes and hates being barefoot without shoes. It makes absolutely no sense, and Harry’s sure that Louis will never change his ways about that. 

Perhaps the most alarming difference in Louis that Harry notices is the broad, seemingly genuine smile stretched across his face. His eyes are far kinder than they’ve been pretty much since Harry moved out of their flat, and honestly, he can’t remember the last time Louis smiled at him so prettily.  
“Harry. It’s so bloody good to see you,” Louis says, pulling him into a quick hug that Harry returns despite the stiffness in his shoulders. “Come on in, let me grab your bags.” 

Harry watches a bit dumbly as Louis grabs his bags and wheels them toward the staircase. Harry takes off his boots and sets them on the mat by the front door, thrown off by the fact that there even is a mat there. When he and Louis lived together he would often find pairs of Louis’ shoes carelessly strewn around the entire flat, not neatly organized in rows like they are now. 

“Come on into the kitchen, mate! I was just about to make a bottle, but I’ll throw the kettle on.” 

Harry follows the sound of Louis’ voice, taking note of the décor he passes on his way. The walls are filled with a variety of family photos and rather impressive art pieces. He walks through a wide doorway into a dining room with a table large enough to fit at least ten people. Louis’ got a large family. Harry wonders if they’ve all visited yet. 

“Is Darcy here?” Harry asks as he sits down on a stool at the island in the kitchen. Everything about Louis’ home feels warm and welcoming. 

Louis glances at Harry from where he stands gathering mugs and tea. “Yeah, she’s here. It’s actually an interesting arrangement right now,” Louis starts. “Briana had a few complications from the delivery so she’s bedbound right now recovering.” 

Concern fills Harry, and Louis must notice. “Oh, she’s fine, just – well, to be honest, it’s a little gross, so I’ll spare you the details, but there were some – tears? In unfortunate places. I don’t like thinking about it.” Louis wrinkles his nose and shudders lightly. “But I’ve got the little one right now while she’s recuperating and what not. We haven’t officially decided on custody yet, but I assume it’ll be 50/50ish once B’s healthy again.” 

Harry nods. “That’s good. Very fair. I’m glad she’s okay.” 

Louis makes a noise of agreement. “Me too. I’d be bloody lost without her, if I’m honest. Even high out of her mind on painkillers she still manages to give me proper good advice.” 

And Harry’s struck with the thought that perhaps Louis and Briana are dating. He knows they weren’t serious when Briana got pregnant last year, and he also knows they weren’t dating when she came to support Louis at a few of their shows last Fall, but…things change, people change. Harry wants to ask but doesn’t know how. 

So instead he nods. “Women are good at that. Advice, I mean.” 

Louis smiles. “They are. They’re good at everything, I reckon.” 

Harry returns his smile, a bit dimmer than Louis’. Harry’s really not a jealous person, but hearing Louis talk about women, how much he appreciates and loves women is a painful reminder that Louis doesn’t like men in the same way Harry does. That Louis, even if he weren’t mostly a prick, couldn’t return Harry’s feelings simply because he’s not wired the same way. Harry shakes off those feelings though, as they’re incredibly irrational. Especially because Harry agrees with Louis: women are good at everything. 

There’s a moment of silence and Harry worries it’s awkward. He watches Louis roll his shoulders a couple of times and close his eyes. 

Blessedly, the kettle begins to whistle. Louis turns off the hob and pours hot water into the mugs. 

“Splash of milk, still?” 

“Yeah, please.” Harry replies. 

Louis walks to the fridge and pulls out the milk. Harry notices Louis seems to have lost weight. Not in a way that makes Harry worry, per se, but more so in a way that makes Harry sad. Nostalgic. Which is weird, even for Harry.

Louis walks their mugs to the Island and sets Harry’s down in front of him. He walks his around to the other side of the island and sets it directly across from Harry. He doesn’t start drinking, though, and instead turns around to pull out a bottle and its topper, as well as a container of baby formula. Louis goes about making a bottle for his daughter.

“Darce is down for a nap right now, but I’m going to wake her up pretty soon to feed her,” Louis explains. He turns around once the formula has been adequately mixed. “You’re welcome to come with me and meet her, if you like.” Louis says this almost shyly. 

Harry nods. “Of course. I’m excited to meet her. That photo you sent was proper cute.” Harry begins. He contemplates the risk of making a joke and decides it’s worth it. He wants normalcy for one blasted second. “I couldn’t believe she has your DNA.” 

Harry’s rewarded with a shocked, “Oi!” and a surprised laugh. “Don’t insult my genes, pal.” 

Harry chuckles. “I’m only joking of course.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Well, jokes at my expense are not allowed in me own home. You want to crack jokes like that, take it outside.” 

Harry grins, feeling some of the stiffness in his upper back dissipate, and takes a large gulp of his tea. He’s only slightly bitter about the fact that Louis made it perfectly. “Better set up a tent for me, then.” Harry considers what he just said. “Actually, considering your track record with tents, we better call Liam.” 

A grin slowly makes its way across Louis’ face until his eyes crinkle in a way all too familiar to Harry. “Excuse you, but I am a pro at setting up tents. I’ll have you know I go camping every weekend now, I’d no choice but to become an expert.” 

Harry falters. “Do you really?” He adds this to a mental list he may or may not be making called “Ways Louis Isn’t Really Louis Anymore.” 

Louis snorts. “Harry. Mate. Absolutely not.” 

Harry is a bit relieved. He takes camping off the list. 

Louis turns around and grabs the bottle. He picks up his mug of tea and chugs it. “Want to come meet my daughter?” 

Harry smiles. He doesn’t think about the fact that he and Louis have already spoken more today than they have in the last two years combined. 

*

Harry had followed Louis up the stairs and listened to him chatter about Darcy. As she was technically less than a week old still, no set routine for care had been established. Louis went with his gut on things, or else he called his mum or Briana for help. 

“They’ve been great. Like, I’ve had to call each of them in the middle of the night this week and they were super cool about it. It’s…nice knowing that I’m not in this alone, even though I guess I am alone right now.” Louis tone was a little weird. 

Harry had rested his hand on Louis’ shoulder before he could think about it. “I’m always happy to help if needed, Lou. Not that I really know much about this stuff, but…yeah.” 

Louis smiled gently. “Thanks, Haz.” 

And Harry had felt very warm inside as they walked along the hallway towards the nursery. He thought about how maybe, if he goes back to the woods, he should still be reachable. You know, just in case. 

Harry’s first thought when he saw the nursery was that it was very cute. The walls were a light purple, and the baby furniture – the cot and the changing table – Louis must’ve purchased were white wicker. The baby, however, was not in the cot. Instead, Darcy was snoozing in her car seat next to it. 

“I had to take her out for a drive to get her to fall asleep for a nap. She had already been up for so long – longer than I think a newborn should go without napping? And she just passes out in the car, you know? I didn’t want to wake her so I just…brought the car seat inside.” Louis laughed deprecatingly. “That was probably stupid, but I’m still like, figuring things out, I reckon.” 

Harry felt a rush of affection for Louis. Here was a part of the boy Harry remembered, one who got embarrassed admitting he put actual thought and effort into things and people he cared about. “Well, I reckon you’re doing okay. Well, even. I haven’t heard her cry once yet.” 

Louis grinned. “You should hear the pipes she has, mate. She tends to scream at night, which…” Louis trailed off. “I’m now realizing might not be an ideal environment for you to sleep in.” Louis rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. If it gets too bad and you want to go to yours or stay in a hotel I’ll foot the bill, honestly. Just let me know.” 

Harry had shaken his head before Louis could finish his thought. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, Lou.”

Louis snorted. “We’ll see about that. Have I told you I’ve gotten maybe ten hours of sleep total this week? No one ever told me that having a newborn would be difficult.” 

Harry chuckled. “I’m pretty sure everyone told you, actually. Partially why we took the break, remember?” 

Louis had sighed and started unbuckling Darcy from her car seat. Harry watched as her little eyelids fluttered open. “Yeah, course. Would you like to hold her?” 

Harry had nodded. 

“Alright, you can sit in the rocker and feed her the bottle if you want?” 

Harry grabbed the bottle from where Louis had set it down upon entering the nursery. He sat down in the white rocking chair next to the crib and prepared himself for what was about to happen. 

Turns out nothing could have prepared him for this. It’s been about twenty minutes, the bottle is mostly gone, and Harry is still staring at her sweet face. 

“She’s just…so tiny.” Harry says for at least the fifth time. 

There’s a lengthy silence before Louis says anything, and it’s only a quietly sighed, “Mmm.” Harry glances over to see him sitting against the opposite wall with his head tilted back and eyes closed. Harry smiles slightly, and then frowns. Louis must be exhausted. 

“You know…if you want to kip for a bit you can. I can handle this, I think.” Harry earnestly tells Louis. 

He watches as Louis’ eyes pop open. “I’m good, nope. I can’t fall asleep an hour after you get here, mate, that’s just poor form.” Louis explains. “Plus, I have big plans for dinner tonight.” 

Harry’s heart falls. So Louis couldn’t take a nap right after Harry got here but he can go out for dinner, probably on a date, no problem? Where’s the sense in that?

“Oh. Okay. Well, I can watch the baby, if you want. No need to hire a babysitter when I’m here.”

Louis quirks his head. “What are you on about?”

Harry furrows his brows. “I’m just saying there’s no need to hire a sitter when I’m here. I’ll happily babysit while you’re out tonight.” 

“While I’m out? I’m not going out, what are you talking about?” 

Harry’s confused now. “You have big plans for dinner?” 

“Oh,” Louis realizes. “No, I’m not going out. I just meant that I’m going to order an unnecessary amount of takeaway tonight now that there’s someone here to help me eat it all.” 

And Harry’s heart is okay again. For now. 

“Oh. Nice,” Harry says and looks at Darcy’s little eyelashes. “What are you going to get?” 

“Well there’s an amazing Indian restaurant a couple of miles away from here, so I thought maybe we could do that for dinner?” Louis suggests. “And then we could get Thai food for lunch tomorrow, I know a great place. Bit of a hole in the wall, really, but it’s so bloody good. Really authentic.”

Harry nods and watches Darcy’s eyes dance from underneath her eyelids. “That sounds good. Or…” Harry trails off, unsure if his next comment will be weird. “I could like, cook. If you want.”

Louis’ silent for a moment and Harry regrets saying anything. 

“I don’t have to, I mean. I just thought it might be…nice to have home cooked meals, too.” Harry explains quickly, hoping to save the conversation. He just…he doesn’t know how to talk to Louis anymore, and it’s sort of exhausting him to try.

“That sounds brill, if I’m honest.” Louis says. Harry’s relieved. “I’m just thinking about how little food I have here to like, cook with.” He shakes his head. “I’ll have to pop round to the shops tomorrow. But…yeah, if you ever want to cook you’re welcome to. My house is your house, and all.” 

Harry’s heart needs a break from the ups and downs. “Great.” He sighs and looks to where the bottle’s nipple has fallen from Darcy’s mouth. He quickly sets it on the table beside the chair and wipes her mouth off, rubbing the few errant drops of formula on his jeans. “Maybe I could write down stuff to get from the shop? Like a list or something?” 

Louis nods. “Yeah, good idea. Otherwise I’d fill the basket with tea and cocoa pops, knowing me.” 

Harry laughs quietly, conscious of the sleeping baby in his arms. “Yeah, knowing you,” he says, even though he really doesn’t anymore. Know Louis, that is. 

Louis smiles and tips his head back against the wall. He stares at the ceiling for a moment and Harry subtly watches him do it. “Alright, I think I’ll pop downstairs and put in our order. The food is bloody amazing but it takes a while to get here.” 

Harry nods. “Alright. Do you want me to bring her down?” 

Louis shrugs. “You can stay here, or you can bring her down to the living room. I’ll set up the mat in there just in case.” 

Just after Louis leaves, Darcy opens up her eyes and looks at Harry’s face. She’s too new to really see anything, so Harry doesn’t delude himself into thinking she’s observing him the way he’s observing her. However, he wishes he could delude himself into thinking he didn’t just feel something explosive happen in her nappy. 

As Harry has some experience with babies, he takes her to the changing table and makes sure she’s secure before quickly making work of her dirty nappy. He’s disgusted and impressed at the mess she managed to make. He tosses the old one into the bin beside the changing table, and snaps her babygro closed. He scoops her up, careful of her neck, and begins the trek to the living room. He makes sure to grab her bottle with his free hand last minute, thinking they should probably wash it out so they can reuse it tonight. 

Harry carefully descends the stairs, afraid of tripping and sending them both tumbling. He tucks the bottle into his armpit and grips onto the railing iron tight as he lowers them slowly, step by step. Once carefully on the floor level of Louis’ home, he walks into the living room and notices a mat pulled out in front of the couch. It’s a colourful blend of oranges, reds, and yellows, with an arch above it dangling shiny objects that spin and make noise. Harry contemplates setting her down on the mat, but realizes he doesn’t want to let her go just yet. He hears Louis’ speaking from the kitchen, likely placing their dinner order, so he sits in the corner of the couch and pulls his legs up to cross them. He stares at Darcy’s mouth as it makes sucking motions; he assumes she’s dreaming about eating – or drinking, it would technically be – her formula. He wonders if Louis has a dummy close by. 

Harry hears Louis’ voice get a little louder as he walks from the kitchen to the living room where Harry and Darcy sit. “Alright, thank you so much. Bye.” 

Louis walks through the threshold into the living room and smiles when he spots the two of them on the couch. “Dinner will be here in about two hours.” Harry raises his eyebrows and Louis nods. “Yeah, told you it’s a bit of a wait. Definitely worth it, though. If you want something small I can make a plate of cheese and crackers? I don’t have much here but I do have a few of the fancy cheeses mum bought a couple weeks ago when she was here.”

Louis approaches the couch and sits down about three feet away from Harry and Darcy. “Oh, I wondered if your family’s been out here yet. But no, thank you, I should be fine until dinner.” Harry is a little too anxious to eat. 

Louis nodded. “Alright, let me know if you change your mind. And yeah, the whole gang was here a few weeks ago. Dan and the babies included. Was a bit of a mad house, if I’m honest. But only mum’s been here since Darcy was born.” 

Harry smiles. “Bet you loved every second of having them here.” 

Louis makes eye contact with Harry and grins. “You know me so well, Hazza.” 

Harry’s mood plummets sharply at that remark, and Louis must be able to tell because his lips pinch down a bit. 

Louis sighs heavily and leans his head back, resting it on the back of the couch. He rotates it a bit so he can make eye contact with Harry again. “Harry…I know things have been…bizarre with us, the last few years. I want to talk about that, and I have a lot of – things to tell you, I suppose, but…can it wait a couple of days? I just want everything to…get settled.” 

Harry doesn’t know how to react, let alone how to feel in this moment. Acknowledgement from Louis that things have been off between them is already more than he had expected, if he’s honest. But knowing that they both want to talk about it and…having to wait? Harry’s not too keen on that, as they’ve been putting it off for literal years, but he supposes a few more days can’t hurt. 

Harry stares a Louis for a moment, noticing how exhausted he looks. “Yeah, Lou. I want to talk about things as well, but we can wait, I guess.” 

Louis closes his eyes, relieved. “Thanks, mate. I appreciate it, I do. In the meantime – want to tell me what the hell you were doing in the woods?” 

Harry startles, because he’d forgotten he told Louis about that. “Oh. Um, yeah. I can do that.” 

Louis smiles. “Very Bon Iver of you, I must say.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, proper hipster of me.” Harry appreciates Louis’ chuckle, and watches as Darcy turns her head towards her father, still very much asleep. Louis notices as well and gives her the fondest look Harry’s ever seen him give. Harry doesn’t want to interrupt the moment so he doesn’t continue until Louis quirks an eyebrow at him as if to say, “Well?” 

“I was in the woods. I stayed in a cabin – rented it for about a month – and had some groceries delivered a couple of times while I was there. I just like. Wanted a break, I think. A real break.” Harry explains. “I didn’t mean to ignore everyone, I just didn’t want to have my phone on. I realize that was a bit selfish though. I worried a lot of people.” He frowns. 

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I get it. Just…maybe next time let me know? Us, I mean. The band. You gave us a proper worry.” 

Harry feels bad. “I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t mean to worry you guys…especially with all you had going on, with Briana and…Darcy…” Harry trails off. “Shit.” He hadn’t realized how selfish it was to just fuck off without telling his friends, people who care about him. 

Louis lays a hand on his knee for a moment and says, “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, I get that. The lads’ll understand. I understand.” 

Harry reluctantly nods. Louis changes the subject and removes his hand from where it rested on Harry’s knee. “So what did you do out there in the woods? A month is a long time to go without civilization.”

Harry snorts. “It is. The first conversation I had after a month was with Gemma and it was just like, weird. I completely forgot how to like, speak.” He laughs. 

Louis makes a noise a protest. “I doubt it was that bad. You could probably charm the pants off anyone – even if you spoke in complete gibberish.” Louis says, and it makes Harry blush a bit. He doesn’t have time to process that, though, as Louis quickly asks, “But did you do anything cool? Fight any bears? You know, mountain man stuff?” 

Harry considers that for a moment and tries to remember if he did anything cool worth mentioning. While he thinks he absently strokes Darcy’s cheek with his finger, unaware he’s even doing it. “I mostly hung out in or around the cabin, honestly. Nothing that cool happened. I didn’t see any big animals, but I did become friends with a few deer.” Harry says and then feels bad about stretching the truth. “Well, maybe not friends. But I like to think they liked me.” 

Louis laughs loudly and Darcy stirs in Harry’s arms. “I’m sure they did, mate. Did you feed them?” 

Harry frowns guiltily. “No, I – I didn’t even know I could, honestly. I feel bad, I should have made them food.” 

“Nutter. I think they probably survived, no need to worry.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’m sure. Still, I could have treated them to a nice, warm meal. Maybe some veal?”

Louis swats at the same knee he had so gently patted just minutes earlier. “Hazza!” 

Harry laughs. “Was only joking, I’d never do something like that.” 

Louis shakes his head. “If only the world knew about your dark, dark humour. Liam would have to grow out his hair and be the front man.” 

Harry frowns and twirls a lock of his hair around his finger. “I’m not the front man. We don’t have a front man.”

“Yeah, and my name’s not Louis The Tommo Tomlinson.” 

Harry wants to frown and smile at the same time. Louis is cute but also frustrating. “If anyone’s the front man, you know it’s Niall.” 

Louis groans. “I’m a bloody idiot. Of course it’s Niall, what was I thinking…” 

Harry smiles and looks at Darcy again. She’s still sleeping but she’s so utterly captivating. “Well, when the breaks over I reckon we’ll have a new front man. Or front woman, I guess. Front child.” 

Louis smiles so gently that Harry kind of wants to cry. “You reckon?” 

Harry nods and quietly says, “Yeah, I do.” 

Louis is silent for a moment before he says, “Poor Niall will be heartbroken.” 

Harry laughs. 

The two of them continue to chat without talking about their relationship – or lack thereof. They discuss topics like TV shows they watch or have watched, as well as their families and what they’re up to. Harry’s as impressed to hear about Lottie’s upcoming job as Selena Gomez’s makeup artist as he is to hear about Ernest and Doris beginning their potty training. He silently laments the fact that he’s missed out on so much of the young ones’ lives, but he remembers they’re not really his business anymore. Louis isn’t really his business anymore. 

But it seems as if he’s trying. It seems to Harry that Louis wants to be Harry’s business – in some kind of friendly capacity – and Harry simply doesn’t have the willpower or the inclination to refuse it. Harry’s hungry for this information about Louis’ life, so desperate to know all that he’s missed because of the distance Louis created between them. 

The two hours fly by and neither of them have moved by the time Louis gets a phone call alerting him the delivery driver is at the gate. He tells the gatekeeper to let them in and Harry realizes he’s been holding Darcy this whole time. She’s so tiny and so, so warm, like a little ball of fire, and Harry kind of never wants to let her go. 

*

The food is just as good, if not better, than Louis had described. Harry’s belly is so swollen after his three helpings of matar paneer that he feels like he needs to lie down. He considers plopping down right next to Darcy on the floor, so he can join her in gazing up at the items that dangled from the archway on her mat. He decides to do it. Louis went to his room to change into trousers with a looser waistband, so he can’t judge Harry for needing to lie down. Harry closes his eyes for a minute. 

He opens them when he feels another presence on the ground with them. He turns his head to the right and watches as Louis settles in on Darcy’s other side. If his stomach were not so full of Indian food, it would be full of butterflies. 

“Just gonna rest for a bit, I think. I’ll have to do the dishes and make another bottle for Darce, but that can wait…just a…few…”

Harry watches as Louis falls asleep. It happens quickly – shockingly so, Harry thinks – though it’s understandable. Harry can’t imagine how tired Louis must be. 

Harry lays there for a few more minutes and listens to Darcy’s gurgles and Louis’ soft breaths, reminiscing about days long passed. Harry gets up soon, though, and walks tiredly to the kitchen. He flips the hot water tap on and waits for it to warm up so he can start on dishes. There aren’t many, just their plates and silverware from dinner, Darcy’s bottle, and their tea mugs from this afternoon. He sets them on the dish rack by the sink and dries his hands on the towel next to the sink. He rubs his face and lightly massages his sore eyes. He slept on the plane ride here, but jetlag makes exceptions for no one. He quickly makes a batch of formula, hopefully remembering correctly the way Louis did it earlier, and puts it in her freshly washed bottle. 

He quietly walks back into the living room and picks Darcy up. He shifts her a bit so she’s comfortably lying in the crook of his arm and urges her to latch onto the bottle’s nipple. He glances at Louis, but he’s still out cold. He’ll wake him once Darcy’s been fed. 

Darcy, probably still a little full from her bottle earlier, drinks at a leisurely pace. Harry has no choice but to switch from staring at her to staring at her father. As he looks between the two, he comes to a realization that should startle him more. When it comes to Louis, Harry was never half-in love with him as he had thought at one point. No, he was fully in love with him. And as far as he can tell, he still is. 

Harry’s a little too tired to properly freak out, so he just sighs and resigns himself to stick to his plan of telling Louis his whole truth. It’s going to be so awkward, Harry thinks, but really, what’s the worst Louis’ going to do? Ignore him? It wouldn’t be the first time. Harry notices Darcy’s finished her bottle. 

Harry sits there for a few moments and remembers Darcy’s likely got a dirty nappy again. He takes her upstairs, trying not to take the steps too loudly, and gives her a fresh one. He lays her down in her cot and stares at her for another minute. He really can’t get enough of her; she’s so bloody cute. 

Harry walks back downstairs and carefully nudges Louis awake. Louis blinks up at him blearily for a moment. “Haz?” 

Harry’s smile is small. “Hey Lou, you fell asleep. I fed Darcy and put her to bed. You should go to sleep in your bed, too.”

Louis blinks some more and sits up. He rubs his eyes for a second. “You – what?” 

“I fed Darcy and put her to bed,” Harry repeats. “And it’s time for you to get to bed too. Up you get.” Harry patted him on the back. 

Louis obediently gets up and walks to the stairs. He turns around before he reaches the first step and says to Harry, “Really? She’s fed and asleep, all good?” 

Harry smiles and nods. “Yep. Go to bed, I’ll shut off the lights down here.” 

Louis stares at him for a moment before pulling him into a tight hug that sends Harry’s mind and heart racing. “Thanks, Haz. You know…I’m really glad you’re here. And not just because you let me kip a bit.” 

Harry laughs and wraps his arms loosely around Louis’ shoulders. “I’m glad I’m here too, Lou.” And Harry genuinely means it. 

He watches Louis ascend the stairs for a moment before turning to walk through the house and turn off the lights. He grabs Darcy’s bottle and washes it again quickly before turning off everything in the kitchen. He checks the oven to make sure nothing turned on by accident, and makes sure the fridge door is shut properly. He double-checks the locks on all the doors he can find, and trudges up to his own room. He washes his face and brushes his teeth before falling into bed. He won’t remember exactly what he dreams about, but he will remember seeing a lot of blue and purple. 

*

Harry’s awoken by screeching wails. He almost rolls right out of his bed to run and hide before he realizes it’s just the baby. He checks the clock on the bedside table and groans when he sees it’s only 3 a.m. He hears Louis’ footsteps through the halls as he undoubtedly goes to check on his daughter. Harry wonders if he should get up as well. What’s the protocol in this situation?

Harry wavers for about five minutes, but Darcy’s screams don’t subside. He reluctantly gets out from under the lush comforter and cracks his back before walking to the nursery. He doesn’t know what kind of comfort he, a veritable stranger to this baby, could offer her that her own father can’t, but he figures it’s worth a shot. He hears Louis talking quietly to his daughter, and pauses outside of the door. 

“C’mon baby, we don’t wanna wake up Harry. He’s new here and we don’t want to scare him off, do we? No we don’t.” 

Harry gulps and feels incredibly exposed despite his presence being unknown. He wonders if he can chance a glance inside. He doesn’t risk it. 

Instead, he waits through about two minutes of Darcy’s anguished whimpers and Louis’ quiet shushes and steps into the room. “Everything okay?” 

Louis spins around with Darcy in his arms. “Oh. Sorry to wake you, Harry. She’s a bit of a crybaby at night, which is just lovely.” 

Harry smiles tiredly. “Innit. Do you want me to make her a bottle?” 

Louis sighs. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind. I was going to do that in a few. I changed her but I think she must be hungry.” 

Harry nods and goes down to the kitchen to do just that. When he returns he notices that Darcy’s screams have quieted a bit. He hands the bottle to Louis and watches as Darcy eagerly latches on and sucks. 

“Ravenous baby, huh?” Louis says to her, rubbing his fingers lightly over her foot. Harry watches as his finger delicately strokes over her ankle. He should probably go back to his own room. 

“I’m gonna head back to bed, I think.” Harry says. “Unless you need help?” 

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I think she’s good now. Thanks ever so, Harry.” 

Harry smiles. “I’m happy to help.” 

And Harry contemplates how very true that is until he falls asleep again. 

*

The sunlight wakes Harry up the second time that morning, along with the birds chirping outside of his window. He rolls onto his back and stretches his body out, his back arching almost violently. He scratches his chest and grabs his phone from the bedside table. A few notifications from friends and family greet him, and he replies to all of them. He takes a moment to think about how he should respond to Nick’s “and how’s it going?” text. Before he overthinks it, Harry shoots back a message that says, “better than I expected, but we haven’t really talked yet. Darcy is perfect.”

Harry stands up and stretches again, taking time to really loosen up his shoulders. They’re a bit sore; he was tenser yesterday than he thought. He walks to his suitcases and digs through them to pull out a fresh pair of trackies and an old t-shirt. He walks into the washroom across from the room he’s staying in and turns on the shower. He takes off his clothes and runs his hands through his hair a couple of times. He’s about to step into the shower when he realizes he doesn’t have a towel ready. He quickly pulls his pants back on and tiptoes to the linen closet next to the washroom. He opens the doors and grabs out two towels, one for his head and one for his body. He closes the closet doors just as Louis emerges from Darcy’s room with her in his arms. He pats her gently on the back a few times, trying to burp her, before he realizes Harry’s stood in front of him almost nude. 

Harry’s not shy about his body, but these are weird circumstances. He feels himself flush from his face to his chest, and watches Louis react similarly. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry mate.” Louis says, looking away and turning to walk down the stairs. 

Harry coughs. “No problem. Sorry to just…walk around – like this?” 

Louis laughs shortly. “Yeah, blimey Haz, think of the children next time!” Harry hears him call from downstairs. Harry can’t help but giggle a bit at Louis’ goofiness. 

Harry showers quickly but allows himself a little bit of time to enjoy the delicious water pressure in Louis’ shower. Not even the water pressure in his ritzy flat in London compares. Isn’t L.A. in a draught? Shouldn’t showers not be this lush? But Harry doesn’t dawdle. He moisturizes his face and arms and gets dressed quickly. He keeps his hair wrapped up in a towel as he descends the stairs. He smells something cooking, which is a bit of a surprise as – last time Harry checked – Louis doesn’t cook. 

It’s just eggs and toast. Nothing extravagant, but more than Louis was capable of when they lived together years ago. Or so Harry thought.

Louis glances at him and snorts. “That’s proper fashion mate,” he says, gesturing to the top of Harry’s head. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Hush, you. Have you put the kettle on?” 

Louis shakes his head. “Not yet. I set it just there if you want to grab it and fill it up,” he says, pointing to the counter space to the left of the stovetop. 

Harry walks over and grabs it, brushing past Louis close enough to feel the warmth from his back. He then walks toward the sink and notices Darcy sitting in her automatic rocking chair by the table. It’s moving back and forth slowly, almost hypnotically. Harry nearly overfills the kettle watching its steady movements. 

He takes it back to the stove and places it on the hob next to the pan Louis’ frying eggs in. Harry flicks it on and turns around to take a seat at the table. He watches Louis confidently flip the egg. He notices a bit of baby sick on his shoulder and feels inexplicably fond. 

“I’ll admit it’s not a full English, but it’s something,” Louis says as he moves the freshly fried egg onto a plate with a couple pieces of toast. He sets it down in front of Harry. “Not sure if you still like to do the thing – ”

“The egg sandwich?” Harry interjects. “Truthfully I’ve not done that in years, but it does sound good.” 

Louis smiles crookedly. “Of course. Want a few slices of cheese, then? I’ve only got American, I’m afraid.” 

Harry nods. “Yes, please.” 

Louis pulls out a packet of the highly processed American cheese and hands a few slices to Harry. Harry quickly puts them on the warm bread and moves his egg there too. He lays his other piece of toast on top and squishes it a bit, watching gleefully as the yolk runs down over the edges of the bottom piece of toast. Louis wordlessly turns around and grabs a few napkins out of the napkin holder and places them in front of Harry. Harry smiles at him and lifts his sandwich to take a bite. 

It’s good, better than Harry remembers. Messier than Harry remembers as well, though he’s got plenty of napkins now thanks to Louis. Louis digs in as well, but he eats his eggs and toast separately. 

“So…what’s on your agenda for today?” Harry inquires. 

Louis shrugs as he takes a particularly large bite of toast. Harry watches him chew. “I’m not sure,” Louis says, mouth still mostly full of half chewed bread. 

Harry nods once. “Cool,” he replies. 

Louis smiles around his mouthful. “We can do whatever, honestly. I don’t have any plans for the next few days at least, so – ”

Louis’ ringtone cuts him off. He checks his phone and, after seeing the name of the caller, he chews a little faster and swallows it all at once. “Oh fuck,” he says. “Swallowed too fast, that fucking hurt.” 

Harry can’t help himself. “That’s what she said.” 

Louis points at him. “Enough of that.” 

“Never,” Harry says impishly.

Louis narrows his eyes and picks up the phone. “Hey, B, how are you?” 

Briana, Harry assumes. He takes another bite of his sandwich and tries not to eavesdrop too obviously. 

“Oh, really?” Louis sounds surprised. “Well, that’s good to hear obviously.” 

Louis nods as he listens to whatever she says. “Yeah, I mean that’s totally fine, I’ll be here all day. You can come whenever.” 

Damn. Harry doesn’t want to intrude on their time together. He should figure out a place to go. He could swing by his own property in the city but he doesn’t really…want to. He hasn’t been there in almost a year and he’s worried about how much dust has accumulated. He should call a cleaner to swing by there before he goes there himself, lest he have an asthma attack. 

“Yeah, things have been good. She vommed on me this morning which, yuck, but that’s to be expected, I suppose.” 

Briana must say something funny because Louis laughs. “Vommed, barfed, puked, whatever – you knew what I meant! And it’s not funny! Baby sick smells!” 

Harry finishes his sandwich and stands up to move his dishes over to the sink. He rinses them off and sets them down, promising to himself he’ll properly wash them later. As for now he kind of wants to go upstairs and let Louis finish this phone call in private. 

Harry shifts through the kitchen and gets Louis’ attention just to gesture to him that he’s going upstairs. Louis gives him a thumbs up.  
As Harry walks up the stairs he hears Louis laugh again and sighs. At least he’s happy. 

He goes to the washroom and takes the towel off of his head. He scrunches his curls between his fingers and hopes they’ll look healthy today. He should probably get a haircut soon – a trim, at the very least. He needs to call Lou soon. He needs to call a lot of people soon, but while he’s here, they can just wait. 

“Yeah, he’s here,” Harry hears Louis say from the kitchen. Harry’s standing right at the top of the stairs, frozen in the middle of his trek from washroom to bedroom because he’s pretty sure Louis’ talking about him to Briana. “It’s going well, I think. It’s good to have him here.”  
Harry knows that eavesdropping is probably a sin but he just can’t help it. 

“Yeah, as far as I know. I think he’ll probably miss her when she’s gone. Can’t say he’ll be the only one.” What does that mean? Were they even talking about Harry? 

“I think that’s fine, you can come whenever honestly.” 

Another pause.

“Oh, yeah, okay. Better wait till after the doctor’s visit. Text me updates. If all goes well then we’ll see you this afternoon!” Harry glances at the clock in the hallway. It’s 10:04. “Do you need me to pack her a bag?” 

Harry’s having trouble following along with the conversation. 

“No, I’m aware, I just wasn’t sure if you like, needed anything from here...” Louis trails off. “Okay, sick. I’ll do that then,” He says. “Listen, I’m gonna ring off, okay? I’m going to finish breakfast and then feed Darce.”

Silence. “Oh, alright, you’re on speaker now so say your piece.” 

Harry can’t hear what Briana says over speaker, but he does hear Darcy give a little baby squeal. It’s very cute, in all fairness.

“Did you hear that? She says she’s so excited to see her mummy – ” 

Harry’s had enough eavesdropping for today, he thinks, and walks into his room. It’s lovely to witness how healthy and functional Louis’ little unconventional family is, but Harry’s having a hard time figuring out what his role in all of this is. 

Just as Harry’s about to close his bedroom door, he hears Louis call up to him. “Haz, the tea is ready!”

And Harry had forgotten about the tea. He can’t just refuse it, it was his idea. 

He walks back downstairs and takes his place at the dining table. He hears Louis say bye to Briana and watches him end the call and set his phone back on the counter. He resumes eating his toast. Harry takes a sip of his too hot tea and regrets it as the tip of his tongue burns. 

“Everything alright?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, actually. Bri’s pretty much healed already, so she’s going to come and take Darcy for a few days.”

Harry’s heart sinks but he tries not to let it show. “Oh. Well, I imagine she must’ve missed her.” 

“Probably. From what I heard though B mostly slept after she got home from the hospital.” 

“Makes sense.”

Louis hums affirmatively and continues eating his breakfast. Harry tries to repress the question begging to be asked, but he can’t. If Louis gets cross or offended, so be it. 

“Why didn’t she stay here with you, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Louis looks up at Harry, eyebrows raised. “Oh, um, I think she just wanted to be at home while she recovered. You know, have her mum and dad around to take care of her.”

Harry thinks about that. “Is there – and this probably crosses a line, or something – but is Briana breast feeding Darcy? Or does she plan to?” Harry doesn’t know if this is invasive to ask. “I just noticed you’ve only been feeding her formula.” 

Louis shakes his head. “She’s had trouble producing milk. It happens, I guess.” 

Harry nods. “Yeah, definitely.” He drinks the rest of his tea. He stands and walks his mug over to the sink. “I think – I might go for a run in a bit, if that’s okay?” 

Louis rolls his eyes lightly. “Of course it’s okay, mate. I know you’re…technically here with us, but you’re free to do anything you want. And…of course, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. Especially now that Darcy’s going to be gone for a bit.” 

Louis doesn’t want him here after all. That’s all Harry hears. He turns around and rinses out his mug so Louis can’t see the hurt on his face. “Oh. Um, alright, I can clear out if need be.” 

Louis inhales sharply and starts coughing. Harry turns around concerned and watches as Louis’ face gets red. “You alright? Need me to hit you?” Harry starts to make his way over Louis. Louis leans over still coughing, so Harry starts patting him firmly on the back. Louis’ coughs eventually subside. 

“Shit,” Louis sighs, letting his head fall forward. “Can’t believe you just had to burp me like Darcy.” 

A shocked laugh leaves Harry’s mouth. Louis peeks up at Harry and laughs as well. The two of them are silent for a moment before Louis sighs and says, “Harry, you don’t need to clear out. Unless you want to. I – um, I want you here. If you want to be here.” 

Harry pauses and realizes his palm is resting on Louis’ upper back still. He pulls it away and leans against the island next to Louis, crossing his arms. “I’m where I want to be,” He says quietly. He realizes how that may sound, so he turns around and walks back to the sink. He washes his hands just to have something to do. 

Louis doesn’t respond though, and Harry fills the silence before it gets too awkward. “Are there any trails or paths around here? If not I could just run around the block for an hour or so.” 

“An hour or so? That’s absurd, mate.” 

Harry smiles. “I’m training for a marathon.” 

“No shit?”

Harry laughs. “I’m joking. 10k’s are fine but I tried a half marathon once and it was too much for me. I just like to take my time sometimes.” 

Louis tilts his head. “Still mad, if you ask me. But I know there’s a trail if you go left on this road and follow it up. I think it goes through the woods.” Louis pauses. “You’ll feel right at home, I’m sure.” 

Harry laughs. “Whatever, Lou. If I’m not back by noon send out a search party.” 

Louis nods. “You’ll have a search party of two, that much I can guarantee.” 

Harry smiles.

*

Harry’s sweaty and exhausted when he gets back to Louis’ house approximately ten minutes before noon. He takes off his shoes and socks by the backdoor, not wanting to track dirt from the wooded pathway through the kitchen. He hears the TV on in the living room and assumes Louis’ in there with Darcy. He heads for the stairs and hears Louis call out, “Harry?”

Harry pauses. “What’s up, Lou?” 

Louis mutes the TV. “I think I’m going to run to the shops in a bit. Would you want to write a list of items you want me to get?”

Harry nods even though Louis can’t see him. “Yeah, let me just shower first.” And Harry realizes he’s already showered today. His whole head is mixed up being here with Louis, he’s not thinking clearly. If he were, he would’ve run before he showered. Saved water and time. Oh well. 

Louis calls back, “Sure thing!” And Harry climbs up the stairs to take yet another shower. He doesn’t waste any time and is out of there in less than ten minutes. He changes back into his trackies and tee and walks down to the kitchen to write Louis a grocery list. When he’s done he ambles into the living room and sees Louis sitting in the corner of the couch with Darcy in his arms. He’s watching what appears to be the news, which – that’s new. Harry never knew Louis to be an avid keeper upper with current events. Louis glances at Harry and smiles. 

“Is that the list then? Let’s see it.” 

Harry walks over and sits down next to Louis, far enough away that it’s casual. He hands the list to Louis. 

“What’s all this, mate? I’ve not heard of half of these things.”

“Pretty sure that’s because all you eat is cereal and crisps unless you get takeaway.” 

Louis looks offended for a moment before he considers what Harry’s said. “You know what, you might be right.” 

Harry’s relieved Louis didn’t reply with something mad like, “Actually, I only eat vegetables now.” He laughs lightly. “I always am.”

Louis looks at him a bit sardonically. Harry’s still surprised they’re conversing so normally. “Alright, pal. Whatever you say.” 

They sit and watch the news together for about five minutes, commenting on everything from the weather person’s name (Wendy Hale – Louis believes it’s fake, Harry likes to think it’s fate) to the pattern of the lead broadcaster’s tie. At the next commercial break Louis sighs and stands, Darcy still in his arms. He stretches a bit and Harry refuses to watch him do it like a true creeper, so he ardently focuses on the carpet cleaner ad. American telly has so many advertisements. It used to drive Harry a bit mad but he’s grateful for the distraction now. 

“I think me and the kid are gonna take off for the shops now. I don’t expect we’ll be gone long.” 

Harry nods. An idea pops into his head. “If you want, I can watch Darcy for you? You know, if you want a bit of alone time, I guess?”

Louis considers that. “You know what…if you really don’t mind I think I might take you up on that.”

Harry smiles. “Sick. It’ll be proper bonding time for me and Big D.” 

Louis’ head snaps towards him and he shakes his head. “Nope, we’re not doing that. That is not her nickname, I refuse. Isn’t that from Harry Potter? Didn’t he call his evil cousin that?” Louis puts his hand on his hip and cocks it out, glaring at Harry. “You’re not calling my baby a bully, are you?”

Harry laughs so hard he almost cries. Louis does the same, and it agitates Darcy a bit. She starts to cry. 

Louis looks at her and coos. “Okay baby, I’m sorry. I’ll freshen you up so you’re all clean for Hazza. He’s gonna hang out with you for a bit. Don’t be too mean to him, he’s a sensitive soul.” 

Harry rolls his eyes but grins a bit. “Fuck off.”

Louis looks playfully affronted. He rests his hand over Darcy’s exposed ear and says, “Not around the child, you monster!” 

Louis goes upstairs to change Darcy’s nappy and Harry waits for them to return. He wonders where he left his phone – he probably has a few messages to reply to. One nice thing to come from his time in the woods is that he doesn’t feel nearly as attached to the device as he did before. He should probably call his mum while Louis’ gone, though. 

Louis comes downstairs with Darcy. He put a clean babygro on her, a white one with tiny sunflowers all over it. Harry is so enamored with this baby (and Louis). Louis hands her over to Harry and Harry adjusts her so that her head rests comfortably in the crook of his elbow. She’s got a bright pink dummy in and is sucking on it as she looks around. Her eyes are so blue – brighter than her father’s but the same shade, he thinks. 

“Alright think I’m all set to go. Got me keys, wallet,” Harry watches as Louis grabs at his pockets to double check he’s got what he needs. “Got the list, of course.” 

Harry nods. “Think you’re good to go.” 

Louis looks at Darcy. “Shit, it’s hard to leave her. What am I gonna do when B takes her?” Louis shakes his head. “Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” And a few moments later Louis walks out the door. Harry hears him yell, “Call if you need anything!” 

Harry doesn’t respond as Louis’ already gone. He looks back at the baby in his arms. “Big D,” he mutters softly. “You are so stinking cute.” 

She just looks at him and blinks. Harry decides this is a good time to call his mum. He finds his phone on the kitchen counter and rings her before he can look at any other notifications. 

“Hi my love, how are you?” 

Harry smiles. “Hi mum. I’m doing…really well, actually. How are you?” 

His mum says, “I’m good, Robin and I are in bed already.”

Harry forgot about time zones. But still, it’s only what? Like 9 o’clock there? “In bed already? Wow, mum, you wild woman…”

“Shut it, you. I got up early to garden this morning, it’s been a long day.” 

Harry sighs. “I bet the garden looks beautiful. Send me a picture, will you?” 

His mum hums. “Only if you send me a picture of Louis’ daughter in return.”

Harry gently squeezes Darcy to his chest. “Is that allowed? Am I allowed to send pictures of someone else’s baby to my mum?” 

“You are if it’s Louis’ baby.”

Harry thinks for a moment. “Alright. But don’t tell anyone.”

His mum replies, “Alright, love.”

Harry tells her to wait a moment while he snaps a pic of her in his arm. “Oh that’s a good one,” he says as he captures her looking right into the camera. 

“Well, send it along then.” His mum says. Harry does as she says. “Oh goodness, she’s so precious. Look at how blue her eyes are! Robin look at her,” his mum’s voice is muffled as she presumably leans over to show her phone to Robin. So much for not telling anyone. “Proper cute,” Harry hears him say. 

Harry agrees. “She’s the cutest.” 

Harry’s mum says, “And is that blonde hair I see? Robin will you hand me my glasses.” There’s a pause. “Yep, looks like blonde hair. Who’d have thought?”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, but I think Briana has lighter hair than Lou.” 

“And how are things going with Louis?” His mum asks casually.

“Good,” Harry says immediately. “Well, good so far. We haven’t…exactly talked about anything important yet.” 

“But you’re going to, yes?”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve only been here a day,” Harry says defensively. “We’re just getting settled for now.” 

“Alright, alright, no need to snipe. I’m just…I’m worried about you, baby. I know how much Louis means to you and I’m glad you two are going to work things out…but I’m just worried. It’s what parents do.” 

In that moment Harry hears a ping in his ear and finds that he’s just received a message from Louis. It reads, “everything ok?” 

Harry lets out a large breath and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Me too,” he says a moment later to his mum. He shoots Louis a reply that says, “it’s only been like ten minutes, mate. everything’s still perfect.” 

“Mum, I’m going to let you go. I’ve a few things to do ‘round here, still. Can I give you a call in a day or two?”

“Please do. I love you so much, baby.” 

Harry smiles. “I love you so much, too. Bye mum.” 

And then there’s silence. Harry heads back into the living room and notices the telly is on, still muted. He turns it off and sits on the couch, sighing heavily. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, but doesn’t nod off. He feels Darcy squirming a bit in his arms and starts rocking her a bit until she relaxes. She’s still got the dummy in her mouth. 

He gets about five minutes of peace before the doorbell rings. His eyes pop open. Louis did take his keys, right? Harry can’t be sure now. He gets up and walks toward the door, protectively clutching Darcy a bit closer to his chest. 

It’s Briana. Harry quickly unlocks the door. 

“Oh! Hi Harry,” she says as she sees him, friendly as always. 

Harry smiles but he can tell it’s a bit stale. “Hi Briana. It’s good to see you.”

But Briana’s not looking at Harry. She’s looking at her daughter in his arm. She doesn’t reply to him and instead reaches toward Darcy. “May I?” 

Harry carefully stretches out his arm so Briana can take her. “You don’t have to ask, of course. Would you like to come in? I’m afraid Lou’s at the shops right now, but I don’t expect he’ll be gone long…” Harry trails off awkwardly. “Would you like some tea?”

Briana smiles but continues to stare at Darcy. “No, I don’t really drink tea. But if Louis’ got lemonade that would be incredible.”

Harry nods and goes to check Louis’ fridge. Lo and behold, he does have lemonade. He must know Briana likes it. Harry pours her a glass and walks back into the living room to see her seated on the couch, Darcy snuggled against her chest. They make a really sweet picture. Harry sets her glass of lemonade on the table, making sure to use one of Louis’ coasters. He didn’t use coasters when he lived with Harry, but he does now. 

“How’s it been going here?” Briana asks. “Has Lou gotten any sleep?” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it was worse the first few days. She woke us up last night but he seemed to get her down pretty soon after.” 

Briana smiles and touches the tip of Darcy’s nose. “Already giving daddy trouble, huh?” 

Harry looks away. “I can get the car seat, if you want?” 

Briana looks at him for the first time since her initial greeting. “Oh, yeah. I mean you can if you want. Is it okay if I…stay here until Louis gets back, though?”

Harry nods. “Course. It’s Louis’ house, you’re always welcome.”

Briana smiles at him and looks hesitant before she says, “Thanks, Harry. You know…I think he’s really glad you’re here. I know I don’t know you, and I’m not involved in your friendship with him at all, but even just talking to him on the phone yesterday he sounded really happy.” 

Harry smiles slightly. He hopes she’s right and that his presence here makes Louis happy. “I’m glad to be here. It’s been too long since the two of us ‘ve properly hung out,” he shares. 

Briana nods and looks at Darcy again. “I’m almost sorry to take away this little bug, I hear you two have become quite attached.” 

Harry smiles. “She’s amazing,” he says softly. 

Briana smiles. “All Louis’ influence, I’m sure.” 

Harry snorts. “No, Louis’ influence is apparent in each of her dirty nappies,” He jokes. Is it inappropriate to make poop jokes with the mother and probable girlfriend of your ex-best friend’s baby? Harry doesn’t care. 

Briana laughs, though, and then lifts Darcy up to sniff at said nappy. “Speaking of which, I think this one’s soiled. I’ll go up to the nursery and change her.” 

Harry nods and watches as she leaves the room. He pulls out his phone and shoots Louis a message. “Briana is here,” is all it says. Louis replies almost immediately. 

“On my way home.” 

*

Louis kisses Briana on the cheek before she leaves with Darcy. It’s all Harry can think about. 

Later that night Louis suggests they have wine with their dinner of leftover takeaway. What seemed like a brilliant idea turned out to be not that great, as Louis’ trying to have a conversation with Harry that he refuses to participate in while drunk. 

They’re lying down on opposite ends of the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels and laughing at names of movies listed on Lifetime. At least until Louis says, “We really need to talk, Haz.” 

Harry shakes his head in disagreement. “No we don’t, not right now. I think we’re drunk.”

Louis laughs. “I think you’re right, mate, but we should talk. We need to, right?”

Harry nods. “Oh yeah, we def – definitely need to,” he says a bit wobbly. “But we don’t need to right now. I think that’s what I said.”

“I just…didn’t want to be your friend,” Louis drunkenly says in response to Harry. Harry feels his heart stutter for a moment before it cracks a bit, right down the middle, in spite of his intoxication. This is exactly what Harry was afraid to hear even though he ultimately knew it was coming. “I didn’t want to be your friend,” Louis repeats but this time a bit more slurred than before. Harry glances at him to see his eyes closed. He thinks he’s asleep. 

Harry heard him the first time, though. He stands up unsteadily, grabs his wine glass and takes it to the kitchen to deposit it in the sink. He doesn’t return to the living room where Louis’ passed out, choosing instead to walk right up to his room. He gets under the covers, forgetting to wash his face and brush his teeth. He doesn’t cry, but he does feel very sad. Like one big ache. 

*

When he wakes up the next morning a little hungover he immediately recalls Louis’ declaration from last night. His head spins. He sits up and runs his hands over his face. He looks at his suitcases, still mostly unpacked. He’s only been here two days and he kind of wants to leave. 

So he packs. It doesn’t take long, ten minutes at most. Harry really hasn’t been here long; it’s only Monday, and he arrived on Saturday. When he walks down to the kitchen, he sees Louis already sitting at the table. 

“I think I’m going to head to my place,” Harry says without any preamble. 

Louis looks up at him with furrowed brows. “What?” 

Harry clears his throat. “I think I’m going to head to my place for a bit. Get things in order and what not.” Harry explains. “I’ve not been there in about a year, I’m sure my plants are suffering by now,” he jokes weakly. He doesn’t have any plants.

“But you just got – ” Louis cuts himself off and looks at the mug of tea in his hands. “I mean, okay. Yeah, if you want.” He then asks in a smaller voice, “Will you be back?” 

Harry shrugs and looks out the window above the sink. “’M not sure. Like I said, there’s a – there’s a lot that needs to be done at my place. Not sure how long it’ll take, and I promised mum I’d be back to visit soon,” he lies. 

Louis nods. “Is this…is this about last night?” He asks hesitantly. “Because I think I said – ”

“I don’t really want to talk about that, if I’m honest,” Harry interjects seriously. And he knows just how hypocritical he sounds when literally all he’s wanted to do for the last few years is talk to Louis. He’s such chicken shit. 

Louis closes his mouth. He starts to look angry. “Well, Harry, I think we need to talk about it, if I’m honest.” 

Suddenly Harry’s tensing up in a way he recognizes dreadfully. “I can’t…I…” His chest closes in on him and suddenly he can’t really breathe. His vision blurs around the edges. He watches as Louis’ anger leaves his face entirely and is replaced with genuine concern. Harry wheezes out, “inhaler. Front pouch.” 

Louis runs upstairs to get it, and Harry tries to count down like Gemma did just a week or so ago. It doesn’t work as well this time. Louis returns with the inhaler and Harry quickly takes a puff and then another puff a few moments later. He feels his trachea open up and greedily sucks in some air. The anxiety that propagated this asthma attack is still there, but at least Harry can breathe now. 

“I just,” Harry says, throat sore. “I want a little time. Is that okay? We’ll talk, I just…need some time.” 

Louis just stares at him for a moment with oddly tragic eyes before he nods once, shortly. “I’ll call you a car, then. Are you alright?” 

After Harry nods, Louis walks over to the counter and grabs his phone to call him a car. Harry walks into the living room and sits down on the couch, leaning forward to rest his head between his knees. He feels a weight beside him and a hand on his back. It rubs back and forth a few times. Harry’s back tingles where Louis touches him. 

“Hazza…” Louis starts. “I know you don’t want to talk. I just want to say…I don’t want you to leave.” 

Harry’s heart is broken and his head is confused. “I…” 

Louis pats him gently on the back before removing his hand. “I like having you here.”

Harry’s silent for a while. “I’ll come back,” he promises quietly. “I just need – ” 

“ – Time,” Louis finishes for him. “I understand. Take as much as you need.” 

Harry leans over and impulsively rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis rests his cheek on Harry’s head. For someone that didn’t want to be Harry’s friend, Louis’ doing a pretty good job of being his friend right now. 

The two of them sit like that until Louis gets a notification alerting him that Harry’s driver is here. Harry reluctantly moves from his position against Louis and says, “I’m just going to get my bags.”

He carries them downstairs and finds Louis waiting by the door, arms crossed and glaring at the floor. He changes his stance and expression as soon as he hears Harry approaching, though. He offers Harry a small smile instead. 

They don’t hug before Harry leaves. They give each other awkward smiles and Louis waves once. Harry doesn’t look back. After he loads his bags and gives the driver his address, he realizes that most of the food Louis bought at the shop yesterday would likely go bad before Harry got a chance to cook it for him. If Harry sheds one tiny tear after thinking about that, the driver pretends he doesn’t notice. 

*

His place isn’t as dusty as he thinks it’s going to be, but it’s not great. Harry sits down on the couch and looks around. He looks at the few One Direction awards that he’s held onto over the years, as well as the guitars hanging from the walls that Niall insisted he proudly display. He sees some photos of his family, and the really expensive, really ugly portrait of a meadow that Harry kind of hates, when he thinks about it. He examines the film of dust on his flatscreen and thinks about how Louis used to draw incredibly detailed pictures of penises in any dust or dirt he could find. 

This doesn’t feel like home in the same way it did when Harry bought it. Louis’ house felt like home. That’s not a realization Harry comes to calmly. 

*

The driver is understandably confused as he picks Harry up a mere half an hour after he had dropped him off. He doesn’t ask about it though, ever the professional. Harry’s grateful because there’s no way he could explain, even if he tried. 

He realizes he forgot his bags at his place and curses. The driver asks if he’s okay and Harry says yes. It’s likely he’ll have to get a ride back to his place after this conversation with Louis, anyway. But his phone was in there, and Harry’s sort of worried that this is going to go so badly Louis will kick him out and Harry will be phoneless, unable to even call for an Uber. In his heart of hearts he knows that no matter how badly this goes Louis will let him borrow his phone no questions asked, but Harry’s not thinking 100% rationally right now. 

Harry’s dropped off in front of Louis’ house and everything looks exactly the same as it did when he was first dropped off two days ago. The sun is in the same spot in the sky, and the clouds are patterned similarly. This almost feels like a do-over. 

Harry marches toward the front door and notices all the blinds in the living room are pulled shut. Fuck, he thinks. What if Louis isn’t home? Then he’s really stranded. He rings the doorbell anyway. 

He hears someone approaching and feels a rush of relief before he feels nervous again. Like a calm kind of nervous. He feels like the eye of a hurricane right now. 

Louis’ obviously shocked to see Harry. He’s got a blanket pulled around his shoulders and a pair of fuzzy socks on. “Harry.” 

Harry nods once, as if to confirm that he actually is Harry. “Louis. Can I come in? We need to talk.” 

Louis pulls the door open and wordlessly lets him enter. 

* 

Louis insists on making them a cuppa. Harry decides to start talking while he’s puttering around at the stovetop. 

“You hurt my feelings a lot these last few years.” Harry says simply. Louis startles, turns around, and gives him a confused look. 

“I – what? When?” Louis asks, obviously perplexed by the notion. 

Harry sighs and tells him the truth. “I don’t know Louis, pretty much everyday since I moved out of the flat.” 

Louis shakes his head a few times. “What?” His voice is pitched higher than normal. “How?”

Harry considers how to answer this. “Just in the comments you made, and the way you treated me. It felt like you didn’t want to be my friend.” Harry says. “And that’s what you said last night, so I guess that’s what happened.” Harry tries to say this with no bitterness, but he’s sure he doesn’t succeed. 

Louis tries to interrupt, but Harry continues. 

“I just…what did I do that made you not want to be my friend anymore? Was it the Larry stuff? Because I know that was uncomfortable for you,” Harry says. “But I don’t know…it doesn’t seem fair to me to end a friendship over dumb rumours like that. I just…” Harry trails off. “It really hurt me when you said we shouldn’t live together. I thought – well, I thought we were best mates.” Harry rubs his eyes, but he’s not crying. He’s too tired to cry. “But clearly I was off on that.” 

Louis bites his lip. “Can I say something now?” 

Harry nods. 

Louis takes in a deep breath and seems to psych himself up for whatever he’s about to say. Harry’s prepared for the worst. 

“You’re right, the Larry shit was weird for me. Is weird for me.” Louis said. Harry didn’t expect Louis to open with that, but he knows it’s the truth. It kind of hurts. “But…not for the reasons you think.” Louis sighs. “Everyone thinks I’m this homophobic dickhead now, ‘cause I opened my big mouth in ways I shouldn’t’ve. I know that. But…the Larry stuff was weird for me because…” He trails off. Harry’s getting impatient.

“Just spit it out, Lou,” Harry says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. 

It’s silent for about ten seconds before Louis says something that shakes the foundation of Harry’s entire existence. 

“It was weird for me because I wanted it all to be real.” 

Harry’s eyes flash to Louis’ as soon as he understands. “You – what?” 

Louis pointedly stares at the floor. “I…had feelings for you, back then. Like a crush. And I just – ” Louis looks pained. “It just didn’t feel right. You were only what 17? 18? And I wanted – I wanted too much. So I thought,” Louis runs a hand through his hair. “I thought I’d put some space between us so I could make things normal again and be proper friends with you.” 

Harry’s too shocked to even breathe. Louis liked him and Harry, he – he missed his chance. Louis probably moved on a long time ago and he’s…with Briana now. Harry feels sick. 

“But you…you moved out in like, two days, and you had like, stopped talking to me – and you barely even looked at me – ” Louis cuts himself off. “I just didn’t know what to do, Haz. To me it felt like you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Harry trembles a bit. 

“You went out and got yourself a whole new group of friends – people that were cool and edgy in ways that I’m just, I’m just not,” Louis gestures at himself sadly. “And I understood. I figured it would happen one day because you’re like…you’re such a star. Everyone wants to be near you, to be your friend. I couldn’t expect to hold onto you as my best mate forever.” Louis says quietly and pauses before continuing. “I understood, but I was also, like, unfairly angry at you. All the time. In an effort to be completely honest with you, I felt abandoned, which is really embarrassing to say,” He laughs without an ounce of humour in his tone. “It’s utterly ridiculous because I was the one that asked for you to move out, I was the one that needed some space.” He shakes his head and bites at his thumb nail. “I think I took my anger out on you and for that I’m really, really sorry.” 

Harry lets all of…that…sink in for a minute and says, “Shit.”

Probably not the best idea, because Louis’ lips turn down into a grimace and he sounds utterly dejected when he says, “Yeah.” 

Harry blinks rapidly. “No I mean – shit.” He says again. “Shit,” he can’t stop saying it. “Louis, I can’t believe this.” 

Louis looks at the floor and nods his head. “I know. I’m so sorry. And – ” He looks uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry about Darcy – about the name, I mean. That was really not on, and I know that. I remember you used to talk about it all the time, how you wanted to name your daughter Darcy. I was just so angry that you hadn’t replied to my messages – or really talked to me in years – that I just. I wanted you to hurt like I did. I wanted to take something away from you like you did to me.” Louis snorted. “I’m such an arsehole. I regretted it as soon as I saw it on the birth certificate.” 

Harry’s just so bloody shocked. “Shit.”

Louis nods. “Yeah. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, after all this. I know I could’ve handled everything better the last few years but having Darcy – being a father, it’s kind of settled me, you know? Made me want to be an honest man. So…here’s me being honest.” He chuckles darkly. 

Harry swallows a few times. “I…Louis, I need to be honest with you too.”

Louis makes eye contact for a second before looking back towards the floor. “Yeah mate, let me have it.”

“I…” Harry starts. “I came here with two intentions, really: meeting Darcy, and hashing things out with you.” He sees Louis nod his head once. “Louis, when you said we shouldn’t live together anymore, I thought that was you nicely saying you didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” Harry says honestly. “I thought you had gotten sick of me or something.”

It’s Louis’ turn to look surprised. “Haz – ”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I think I need to tell you everything like you did for me.” 

Louis shuts his mouth. 

“I was just,” Harry pauses and pinches his bottom lip, trying to figure out the proper way to phrase everything. “I was a dumb kid when we moved in together. Like, so dumb.” He sees Louis crack a quick smile at that. “I loved having your attention. I felt like I was on top of the world every time you looked at me, or called me Hazza, or played with my hair – ” Harry cuts himself off abruptly, realizing how obsessive he sounds. “I just. Really liked you a lot. As a friend and – as more.” 

Louis looks shocked now. Harry watches Louis run a hand through his hair and nervously adjust his fringe before faintly asking, “What – really?”

Harry nods. The time for maintaining his dignity has long since passed. “I proper fancied you.” He says and shrugs, as if this is casual and not at all nerve wracking. “Like, wanted to be boyfriends and everything,” he says, smiling sardonically down at his hands as they nervously clutch each other. Harry separates them and moves them to his thighs, hoping he looks calmer than he feels. 

“And I…well, I didn’t have any plans to tell you how I felt, really. I had kind of hoped you would pick up on some of my hints and like, feel the same…but then you said we shouldn’t live together. That maybe I should move out, or you should.” Harry stops. He absentmindedly twirls one of his rings around his forefinger. “So I just – yeah, I left. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend, so I…” Harry feels inordinately guilty. “I stopped talking to you and…looking at you, I guess because it…it hurt a lot, as dopey as that sounds.” Harry says. “I’m sorry that I interpreted that situation wrong.” Harry stops. “I guess…this is my fault. The last few years were my fault.” 

Harry’s shaken to his core as he realizes the truth of this sentiment. 

But Louis shakes his head. “No, Harry, if anything it was a joint effort.” He says, smiling sadly. “I should’ve talked to you, been honest with you from the start.” 

Harry sighs, entirely thrown off. “Me too. I shouldn’t have just assumed anything. God we – we really messed this up.” Harry says simply, sadly. 

Louis nods, and the kettle starts to whistle. He turns to take it off the hob. Harry watches silently as Louis prepares them each a cuppa. 

“Thanks,” He says when Louis sets his in front of him. “And I…I wasn’t replacing you, with Nick and the others,” Harry says. “Or, well. I guess I was trying to replace you, if that makes sense.” Louis shrugs a shoulder sadly. Harry’s not explaining this properly. “I mean…in my head, you weren’t my friend anymore because you didn’t want to be, so I thought. I thought I had to get new friends, right? And you had talked shit about Nick once before and – I was angry at you, remember – I thought it would be like, payback or something.” Harry’s embarrassed to even say it. “I know that’s so dumb, and Nick and his friends ended up being really lovely, but…yeah. I just like wanted to get back at you for what I thought was breaking off our friendship,” He adds. Louis nods in understanding.

They’re silent for a while. Harry realizes he’s not angry anymore, can’t be angry after hearing Louis’ side of things. He’s sad more than anything. They wasted years being mad at each other for no reason other than their own ignorant assumptions. 

“Shit,” Harry says softly. 

Louis huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah.” 

Harry bites his lip. “Do you…do you think we can be friends again? I had a really nice time on Saturday and on – yesterday – I guess it was, until the end…which,” Harry says. “I realize now I might have misinterpreted what you meant? About not wanting to be my friend?” At Louis’ nod Harry continues. “I just – I miss you Lou. I’ve missed you so much the last few years. Can we please be friends again?” 

Harry says this because he recognizes it might not be the right time to tell Louis the honest truth about his feelings. They should repair their friendship before Harry tells him he loves him and obliterates it once more. Maybe, if Harry’s lucky, he can compartmentalize well enough that he never needs to tell Louis. Maybe he can happily be Louis’ mate until the end of time. 

Louis smiles. He spreads his arms out wide and says, “C’mon, Haz. Bring it in for the long embrace.”

Harry smiles and stands, walking quickly to Louis. Harry goes under and wraps his arms around Louis’ abdomen, Louis reaches up and tightly wraps his own around Harry’s upper back and shoulders. Harry leans down and tucks his face into Louis’ neck without thinking, and Louis rubs Harry’s back and shushes him. Harry realizes he’s crying a bit. 

“You’re okay, love. We’re okay.” he hears Louis say to him. 

And despite how much they hurt each other over the years, Harry believes him. 

By the time they finish embracing, their tea is cold. 

*

Harry and Louis fall into a mini routine. Three days pass and Darcy is still at Briana’s. Louis misses her desperately, Harry can tell. Briana sends him pictures of her, which Harry thinks helps Louis, but not enough. She’s getting dropped off tomorrow, though, which excites both Louis and Harry. 

As for the two of them, they’re pleasantly surprised by how quickly their friendship feels normal. In the mornings Louis makes them tea and toast. They run their respective errands, if need be. The afternoons are spent playing footie in the backyard. Harry’s not terrible at football, but Louis’ always been better. One day, instead of football, Louis joined Harry on an afternoon run through the woods. He turned it into a race and threw a handful of woodchips at Harry’s back after he got passed. At night Harry cooks for them, Louis raves about it, and they watch endless episodes of various American reality shows. 

It’s been really wonderful. They poke fun and reminisce about the early days and enjoy each other’s company. They talk about the parts of their lives the other missed while they were pointlessly ignoring each other. They don’t talk about the fact that Harry’s in love with Louis, though. That would require Harry to actually tell Louis that. 

On Wednesday morning when the landscapers come tend to the yard and garden, Harry realizes Louis’ not the one that planted, nor cares for, the beautiful flowers in his front yard. On Thursday afternoon when Harry almost trips over a pair of Louis’ shoes carelessly left in the middle of the kitchen, he realizes that Louis might not have changed as much as he feared. 

*

That night Harry makes him and Louis his famous fajitas, which have always been a favorite of Louis’. When Louis realizes just what Harry’s cutting up all the fresh veggies for, he shoots him a smile so lovely that Harry loses his breath for a second. 

Louis keeps him company while he gets dinner ready. He sits on the island, kicking his heels against the cabinets below. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve had your fajitas mate, it’s almost criminal.” Louis says at one point. “Shall I pop open a bottle of wine so we can properly celebrate this occasion?” 

Harry’s a bit hesitant, just because the last time they had too much wine together he had felt the need to run away the next morning. He shakes it off and resolutely promises himself that it won’t happen again. “Please. Maybe a nice white.”

Louis snorts. “One of these days you’ll come to properly appreciate red wines. White wine isn’t even real wine,” Louis complains. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Please don’t whine about it.”

Louis snaps his finger and says, “Oi-oi! No punny business, please and thank you!” 

Harry is so stupidly in love with him. But he pretends that he isn’t and snaps the towel that rested in front of him in Louis’ general direction. “You’re just as bad. If only the world knew.” 

Louis laughs. “My hidden shame, I admit.”

Harry continues cooking and thinks about how even though Louis isn’t technically his best mate anymore he may still be his favorite one. 

*

Right now it’s Friday night and Harry and Louis are sat on Louis’ couch, in front of a television proudly displaying a re-run of Iron Chef, prank calling Liam. Their bellies are warm and full of Harry’s fajitas, and their heads a little woozy from the wine. 

“Fatherhood’s made me a lightweight,” Louis claimed. 

Harry shook his head. “You’ve been a father for like, a week and a half, Lou.” 

Louis’ brows furrowed. “Okay, right. But what’s that in dog years?” 

And Harry laughed so hard he cried. 

As for the prank call, it’s not going so well. In their drunkenness they hadn’t realized that instead of the call button they’d accidentally pressed the button for FaceTime. They come to realize their mistake when Liam’s sleepy face greets them on the screen. 

“Leem!” Louis exclaims. 

Liam winces, and Harry remembers time zones. “What the bloody hell are you calling me at – ” he pauses to glance at the time. “5 in the morning for? Wanker.”

Louis scoffs. “Stop or I’ll blush.” 

Harry smiles. “Sorry, Liam. We meant to prank call you but I don’t think either of us remembered you’d be asleep. We can hang up.” 

And just like that Liam’s wide awake. “Harry? You’re there with Lou? Calling me?” 

Liam sounds a bit dumb, and Louis does not hesitate to make fun of him for it. “Yes? Harry’s here with me? Calling you?” 

Harry laughs but Liam doesn’t. He does smile, though, looking at least a hundred times happier than he did when he first picked up Louis’ call. He doesn’t say anything and Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re boring, Liam.” 

Liam continues to smile. “Dickhead,” he replies, smiling still. He’s just staring at them and it’s a little bit creepy. 

“Alright,” Louis slowly drawls. “We’re going to go now…” 

Liam laughs lightly and closes his eyes. “Alright lads. Thanks for the wakeup call.”

Liam ends the call. Harry and Louis stare at Louis’ phone for a minute before deciding to FaceTime Niall as well. Because, you know, equality. 

Niall’s at a club, it looks like. “Tommo!” He shouts. His eyes get wide when he sees that Harry’s in the frame as well. “Hazza! Lads!” 

Harry and Louis smile. They watch as Niall’s connection fades in and out a bit. Louis receives a text from Liam but Harry doesn’t get a chance to snoop before Louis’ swiping it up and off the screen. 

Niall’s connection is too poor to maintain the FaceTime call, so Harry and Louis give up. They lean back against the couch for a moment before Louis proposes the idea of putting on a film. Harry confirms that this is, in fact, a good idea. 

Louis obviously puts on a Marvel film. Harry rolls his eyes because Louis choosing one of those films is incredibly predictable, and then he smiles because Louis is still the same in this way too. 

They’re about fifteen minutes into the film when Harry lies down and rests his legs over Louis’ lap. Harry secures a throw pillow under his head and Louis places a hand over Harry’s left calf and keeps it there. 

Harry starts to nod off – wine always makes him a bit sleepy – but asks a question that’s been on his mind for months. 

“What did you mean by that?” Except that’s all he says and Louis has no idea what he’s talking about. 

“What on earth are you talking about, mate?”

“Fuck.” Harry says. “I forgot to say the rest of it.”

Louis snorts. “Clearly.”

Harry huffs and closes his eyes. “A long time ago someone interviewing us asked what you’d do differently and you said – ” Harry’s eyebrows pinch together as he tries to recall what Louis said. “You said…everything.” Harry finishes a bit lamely. “What did you mean by that?”

Louis’ silent for so long that Harry’s half asleep when he responds. 

“I just meant…things with us were so bad then, you know? Given a chance, I’d go back and do everything differently to prevent that, I guess.” 

Harry hums softly and says, “Your tattoo,” and falls entirely asleep. 

* 

When Harry wakes up he notices it’s barely light outside, which suggests it’s probably around 6 a.m. The telly is still playing the Menu screen for the film Louis’ put on, but the volume is much lower than it was last night. Harry registers a heavy weight against his hip and looks down.

Louis must’ve fallen asleep down here with him, as it’s his head pressed against Harry’s hip. Harry watches Louis breathe for a few minutes, the gentle swells of his breaths almost lulling him back to sleep. Absentmindedly he reaches up to run his fingers through Louis’ hair. He scratches lightly and Louis stirs a bit. Harry withdraws his fingers and watches as Louis snuggles closer, digging his nose in almost painfully against Harry’s hipbone. Harry’s heart might burst. He just…loves Louis so much. 

Harry feels a bit guilty. He really needs to tell Louis the truth about how he feels. He knows Louis won’t feel the same way, as he’s with Briana now, but he doesn’t want their tentative friendship to be built on lies. He’ll tell him today. Maybe.

Harry rests his hand on Louis’ head again and falls back asleep. 

*

When Harry wakes up the second time, it’s much brighter outside and Louis’ not on the couch with him anymore. The telly’s been turned off and there’s a light throw blanket resting on top of Harry. He knows he didn’t go to sleep with it and figures Louis must have thrown it on him after he woke up. Harry hears Louis singing softly in the kitchen. Harry smiles and sits up, stretching out his arms and neck. Sleeping on couches is never comfortable but Harry feels well rested regardless. 

“Morning, Hazza.” Louis says when he notices Harry walk into the kitchen. “Tea?” 

Harry nods and sighs, sitting on a stool at the island. “Ta.” 

A mug is placed in front of him in less than ten seconds. Harry rests his head in his palm and sighs. 

“Alright mate? Hungover from just a bit of wine?” Louis asks. “Pathetic.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh. “’M getting old, Lou. Can’t bounce back like I used to.”

Louis gives him a flat look. “You’re 22, pal. How do you think I feel at the decrepit age of 24?” Except Louis looks perfectly well and not hungover at all.

Harry smiles. “In dog years you’re – ” Harry trails off. “What’s 24 times 7?”

Louis does it in his head. “168.” 

“Wow. You’re bloody ancient.”

Louis tosses an untoasted piece of bread Harry, which Harry picks up off the ground after it bounces off his shoulder. He places it on the counter, unsure if Louis has plans for it now that it’s been on the ground. 

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, Harry sipping his tea and scrolling through his phone. He replies to a text from his mum that says, “you never called me back, love. Hope all is well.” 

Harry feels bad. He completely forgot to ring his mum like he said he would. He sends her a text back that says, “all is more than well. I’ll call you soon, sorry. Love you.” 

He sees a text from Niall that’s just a bunch of exclamation points. He doesn’t know what they are in reference to, so he sends back just as many question marks. He also sees a new text from Liam that’s simply the champagne bottle emoji. Harry’s not sure what that means but he’s sure he agrees.

Nick sent him a text that says, “Judging by the lack of phone calls I’ve received in the middle of the night I’m guessing things are going well. Hope you’re ok, popstar.” 

Harry smiles. He replies affirmatively and sends along a few quirky heart emojis as he’s feeling affectionate. 

“Briana’s coming over in a little bit with Darcy, so I’m going to make some breakfast for us all.” Louis says. “Would you like anything in particular? I can make eggs and toast.” 

Harry smiles despite his good mood dampening a bit at the mention of Briana. Harry mentally chastises himself as he’s Louis’ friend and Briana is clearly an important part of his life. He should feel lucky to be included in this, and honestly, he kind of does. 

“Hm, that’s quite a lot of options,” Harry says. “However will I choose?” 

Louis shakes his head. “I know it’s a difficult decision, mate, but it’s one you have to make. Otherwise you’ll be stuck with what I choose for us, which, hint: it’ll be eggs and toast.” 

Harry laughs. “In that case,” he says, grinning so, so happily. “Better go with eggs and toast.”

Louis smiles back, eyes crinkling so, so fondly. “Good choice.” 

*

Breakfast goes smoothly. Briana really is a nice person, and Harry feels bad for doubting her. She and Louis don’t kiss each other or show any other displays of affection, which Harry is incredibly grateful for, but they do laugh about some inside jokes that need to be explained to Harry. He doesn’t mind this so much, though he does feel a slight pang of sadness when he remembers he missed out on years of inside jokes with Louis because of his own damn ignorance. He shakes it off though and consoles himself with the prospect of having many years of inside jokes in the future. Unless, of course, telling Louis about Harry’s feelings goes poorly. 

Harry asks if he can hold Darcy while she’s fed her bottle. He finds her presence comforting. He misses both Louis and Briana smiling fondly at him as he runs a hand gently over her head, watching as her eyes cross a bit as they try to focus on the bottle. 

Maybe he won’t tell him today. You know, just to be safe. They should probably work on their friendship some more first, anyway.

*

Weeks pass as Harry and Louis repair their friendship. They spend most of their time at Louis’ home, not wanting to attract attention to themselves. Sometimes they hang out at the studio and write stuff for their next album, other times they play Fifa for ten hours straight (when Darcy’s with her mum, of course). When Darcy’s with them they take her on walks through the neighborhood and spend time with her in Louis’ spacious backyard. They have picnics out there sometimes, with Darcy resting in the middle of the blanket surrounded by toys as Harry and Louis munch on sandwiches and crisps. Sometimes they talk about how they hurt each other, other times they talk about how glad they are to have cleared the air between them. Harry’s really happy and he thinks Louis is too. 

Louis plans a small reunion for the One Direction lads. It falls on Monday, March 1, a day they’re all in the L.A. area. Niall has already dutifully alerted the group chat of the fact it’s Justin Bieber’s birthday. Harry buys Justin Bieber themed plates and napkins from a party store in town for the occasion. Louis laughs when he sees them on the counter. 

Harry doesn’t have plans to make food for them, he assumes they’ll just eat whatever snack foods Louis has, but Louis begs him to make some chicken wings. Harry can’t say no, so he prepares some chicken wings. 

Liam arrives first, five minutes ahead of schedule, and wraps Louis in a reluctant hug. (It’s reluctant because Louis tries to run away before Liam can get a hold of him, but fails). Harry embraces Liam happily, relishing in his brotherly comfort and warmth. Louis yells at them to “Get a room, lads…” when the hug extends past ten seconds, so Harry gives Liam a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Liam giggles and watches as Louis narrows his eyes at him behind Harry’s back. Liam returns the sloppy kiss and Louis leaves the room with a disgruntled, “Oi!” 

Niall arrives fifteen minutes later and demands a group hug. It obviously ends with them doggie piled on the floor, rolling around until Liam claims he’s dislocated something. He hasn’t, but they all get up regardless. 

Liam and Niall take turns holding Darcy the whole night. Harry doesn’t think she’s set down once, except for when she needs her nappy changed. They sit around the dining room table and eat snacks (including Harry’s chicken wings, which they lads all heartily enjoy) while they catch up with each other. They don’t discuss the fact they haven’t properly sat down together as a band and hung out since Harry and Louis stopped talking to each other. However, they do talk about what it’s going to be like when the break’s over and they start touring again. 

“So…do you plan to bring Darcy with you on tour?” Liam asks as he tickles her nose. Harry watches as she scrunches it cutely. 

“You know, I haven’t really thought about that quite yet,” Louis says, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I guess…maybe? She’ll probably be walking by then. I don’t know.”

“It’ll be difficult to keep an eye on her if she’s walking,” Niall says as he scoops a rather large portion of popcorn out of a bowl and onto his plate. “Any child of yours is going to be a troublemaker, Tommo. You know it.” 

Louis laughs ruefully. “I don’t doubt it, Niall. I’m just thinking about the logistics of it.” He pauses. “How would Briana and I trade off? She can’t just follow me around on tour, I’m pretty sure she’s planning to go back to school.” 

Niall shrugs. “How’s things going with her, by the way?” 

Louis smiles. “She’s an amazing mum. We don’t like, fight, which is cool. Pretty sure we’ve agreed on everything so far.” 

Harry’s okay listening to Louis talk about Briana. He really is. 

“That’s pretty rare, mate,” Liam interjects. “Especially for two people in your positions, like. Congrats, honestly.”

Louis laughs and chucks a crisp right at Liam’s face. It lands on his daughter’s chest; Liam picks it up and eats it. 

Harry, who’s sitting next to Liam, reaches over and puts his finger near Darcy’s clenched fist. He worms it inside, allowing her to grip his finger tightly. He just wants her to hold his hand for this conversation, he thinks. He might need the moral support. 

“Harry’s been helping a lot, though,” Louis says, and Harry snaps his eyes up. “I imagine without him around I’d be a bit of a mess. Bri and I would’ve for sure fought by now.” 

Harry flushes and Niall asks, “Oh really? Been putting him to work, have you?”

Louis grins. “No doubt. Sure he’s sick of all the dirty nappies by now.” 

“’M not.” Harry says. 

“Then you’re a weirdo, mate,” Niall claims. Louis makes an affronted noise. “Who do you think has changed the most nappies?”

There’s a pause before both Louis and Harry both say, “Me.” 

Louis throws a handful of crisps at him. They all laugh. 

*

Harry wakes to a screeching baby. He blearily blinks open his eyes and checks the clock. It’s 1:30, the lads only left an hour or so ago. Harry must’ve just fallen asleep. 

He sits up and runs his hands through his hair, pushing one side behind his ear. He stands and starts making his way towards Darcy’s room. He slows down as he approaches, though, because he hears Louis singing to her quietly. 

“Everything I need I get from you….” He hears Louis croon. Harry leans against the doorway and watches Louis gently bounce Darcy in his arms. “Giving back is all I want to do…”

Harry watches silently as Louis lays her down in the cot after her cries subside. “I love you, my sweet girl,” Louis says, and Harry’s heart positively melts. 

A surge of courage zips through Harry, and he says something he probably should have said a long time ago. 

“I love you.” 

Harry watches as Louis startles and turns around. “Oh, Harry, I didn’t know you were – wait…you – what?” Louis stutters out. 

Harry steps further into the room. There’s about five feet of distance between him and Louis. “I’m in love with you,” Harry says softly. 

Louis’ mouth drops open. 

“I reckon I have been for…a long time.” Harry explains simply. “And I know I missed my chance years ago, but I just…” Harry trails off for a moment. “I just needed to be completely honest with you.”

Louis is silent for a long time, just staring at Harry. Harry’s heart drops further as the seconds pass. He’s about to open his mouth to apologize for ruining everything again, but Louis does something Harry never could have predicted. 

Louis walks straight over to Harry and pulls him into a kiss. 

*

 

Harry wakes up before Louis. He takes approximately two seconds to relish in the ways their naked bodies are intertwined before he promptly freaks out. 

He slept with Louis. 

Harry slept with Louis, someone else’s boyfriend. And it was incredible and breathtaking and beautiful. 

Harry feels a lump form in his throat. He’s literally the scum of the Earth. 

He disentangles himself carefully, trying not to wake Louis. It’s still relatively dark outside so he’s sure Louis won’t wake up. Harry looks at him for a moment after he gets up, wondering how the hell everything got so complicated. 

He grabs his clothes off the floor of Louis’ bedroom and tiptoes into his own room. He sits on the bed for a moment, wincing as his body twinges in places that have been out of commission for a long time. Harry’s exhausted but oddly restless, knee bouncing as he wonders what he’s going to do now. He pulls on some socks, a pair of trackies, a long sleeve shirt, and decides to go for a run. 

He runs for about ten seconds before the soreness becomes uncomfortable. He frustratedly shoves his hands in his pockets and decides to walk instead. He walks through the woods and watches as the sun rises in the sky. The leaves seem to reflect the sun’s orange rays, giving everything a hazy, dreamlike glow. Unfortunately, Harry’s pretty convinced this is actually a nightmare. 

*

When Harry returns to Louis’ house what could be an hour or three later, he sees the kitchen lights on. He slows his gait as he approaches, putting off the inevitable. 

He can’t put it off forever, though, and he deposits his shoes outside the back door before nervously entering the kitchen. Louis’s making tea while Darcy sits in her rocking chair on the floor. 

“Oh,” Louis says when he sees Harry. “I didn’t know where you’d gone.” 

Harry mentally berates himself for not leaving a note. “I was just out for a run.”

Louis nods and looks at Darcy for a moment before sighing. “So…about last night – ”

“We can pretend it didn’t happen.” Harry says, cutting Louis off. “We probably should, anyway.”

Louis frowns and glares at the floor, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He quiet for a long time and Harry takes that as an agreement. His stomach hurts. 

“Harry,” Louis starts and then stops. It seems he’s trying to organize his words. “Did you mean what you said last night? That you’re in love with me?”

Harry wishes Louis hadn’t asked that question, but he’s not going to lie.

“Yes. I meant it,” he says and then quickly adds, “But I didn’t say it to make you feel guilty, or to make you feel like you had to, you know,” Harry pauses. “Sleep with me, or anything.” Harry furrows his brows as he looks down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to like, get in the middle of you and Briana.” 

Harry chances a glance up at Louis to see him with an utterly bewildered expression on his face. “Between me and B?” 

Harry nods. “I feel so terrible Louis,” he says seriously. “I can’t believe we did that last night. You have a girlfriend,” Harry reminds him dejectedly. 

Louis chokes on thin air. “I have – what? I have a girlfriend?” 

Harry looks at him again, confused as well. “I mean, yes? Briana, mother of your child…ring any bells?” 

Louis coughs. “Briana – my girlfriend?”

Harry’s concerned. “Yes,” he says slowly, wondering if Louis’ having a difficult time understanding him. It is rather early still, after all. 

Louis shakes his head a few times in rapid succession. “Harry, Briana’s not my girlfriend.”

Harry freezes. “What?” 

Louis huffs. “Briana is not my bloody girlfriend, mate. What – you thought she was this whole time?”

Harry nods slowly. “I mean – yes. I did.”

Louis laughs once without humour. “Bloody hell. Harry,” he says quickly. “I slept with Briana literally once about 10 months ago. We never dated and we never will.” Louis shakes his head. “How’d you get it in your head that we were together?”

Harry bites his lip. “I just…assumed…” 

Louis groans. “Harry! We can’t make assumptions about each other, you realize! We did it once before and literally messed everything up!” 

Harry shrugs helplessly. “I didn’t know how to talk to you about it,” he says lamely. 

“You’re an utter tit, mate. I hope you know,” Louis huffs angrily.

Harry nods sheepishly. “I am aware, yes.” 

Louis runs a hand through his hair before massaging one of his temples. He lets out a big breath before he says, “Harry, you are the most ridiculous person in the world.”

Harry’s shoulders drop. “I know, Lou. Don’t exactly need a reminder,” he says morosely. 

“No,” Louis immediately contradicts. “You actually do. Because while you spent this whole time thinking I was with Briana, I was trying to make sure I wasn’t being too obvious with how bloody obsessed with you I am. Wanker.” 

Harry’s heart stutters. “You’re what?” 

Louis snorts. “You heard me, pal. I’m genuinely obsessed with you. Completely in love with you, as a matter of fact.”

Harry’s mouth hangs open, jaw practically unhinged. “What?” He squeaks. 

Louis glares. “I. Am. In. Love. With. You. You. Fucking. Knobhead. Please understand what I’m saying right now, thanks.” 

Harry snaps his mouth shut and glares right back. “Well how the hell was I supposed to know that?” Harry cries. “You didn’t say anything to me! You never even told me you weren’t straight!” 

Louis laughs loudly, a bit angrily. “You just asked if we could be friends again! Had no choice but to say yes,” Louis explains. “It tore me up, mate, but I’d offer you a kidney if you asked! Probably even two!” 

Harry shakes his head, unable to process what’s happening. 

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Louis asks. “You decide to come at me in the middle of the night with your sleepy eyes and bedhead all like, ‘I’m in love with you Louis,’ instead of just telling me back at the start?” 

Harry’s getting more frustrated. “You didn’t say anything either, Louis! You can’t get mad at me for something you did as well.”

Louis deflates a bit. “Fuck,” he says succinctly. 

They stare at each other for a moment. 

Harry sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. “Why are we even angry at each other right now?”

“’Cause we’re in love, apparently.”

The two of them look at each other for a moment before dopey smiles emerge on their faces, quickly evolving into deeply powerful belly laughs. Harry’s got tears streaming down his face soon enough. 

When their laughter quiets down into chuckles, Louis walks over and sits next to Harry at the table. He reaches out his hand and Harry grasps it in his own, folding his fingers comfortably in between Louis’. 

“So…” Louis says, laughter still apparent around his eyes. Harry glances at Darcy and sees her happily snoozing in her chair. He looks back to Louis and sees he’s watching him fondly. “We’re in love?” 

Harry recognizes that Louis’ asking for confirmation, so he squeezes his hand tightly and wraps his free arm around his shoulder. He pulls him in closer so he can peck him softly on the lips. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, smiling. “We’re in love.” 

Louis smiles back and Harry thinks everything will be okay. 

*

Hours later, after Briana comes and picks up Darcy, Harry and Louis are snuggling on the couch. Louis’ small frame is wrapped around Harry’s significantly larger frame, but they’re making it work. Harry traces the tattoos on Louis’ arm and Louis strokes Harry’s hair with his hand not in Harry’s possession. 

“I was afraid.” Louis’ quiet voice breaks the silence. 

Harry squeezes Louis’ wrist. “Afraid of what?” 

“A lot of things,” Louis sighs. “Mostly rejection, I guess. I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Harry intertwines their fingers. “You were wrong. Naturally.”

Louis gently slaps Harry’s stomach while Harry giggles at his joke. 

They’re silent until Louis almost breaks Harry’s heart when he utters, “I wasn’t sure you’d…you know, that you would want to be with someone who has a kid.”

Harry wordlessly turns around in Louis’ arms so they’re looking at each other. “Lou,” he says softly. “I love Darcy so much. Way more than I love you, if I’m honest.” Louis pinches his hip and Harry breathes out a laugh. He morphs his face into a more serious expression before he says, “I feel so, so lucky to be here with you and Darcy. Please don’t doubt that.” Harry breathes in and out slowly before he says, “Don’t doubt me.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t. I won’t.” 

Harry smiles and cups the side of Louis’ face in his hand, leaning in to rub the tips of their noses together. He realizes something though – quite abruptly – and leans back. “Wait.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. 

Harry smirks. “You’re telling me you assumed that I wouldn’t want to be a part of your little family?” Louis narrows his eyes, but Harry continues quickly. “You know what they say when you assume stuff…”

Louis rolls his eyes before Harry has even finished his sentence. 

“It makes an ASS of U & ME! Get it?” Harry’s question of whether or not Louis understood the pun gets cut off as Louis pulls him into a kiss.

Harry knows they’re not perfect and they’ve got a lot more to work through and talk about, but he also knows in his gut that he and Louis – and Darcy, of course – will be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what u think! if u find any mistakes please let me know!! thank u my babies!!


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